


True Mates are just in Fairytales

by LaBelleetlaloup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleetlaloup/pseuds/LaBelleetlaloup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a peasant, who's lived in the Argent's kingdom of Francia his whole life. He misses his mother but he's very proud of his father's status as an Elder. When the Hales of Triskele win the war against the Argents, he never imagines that it will effect him at all. But then Queen Laura, Prince Derek and Princess Cora show up in his village about a tree the Argents cut down decades before. The Prince flirts with him and says something nice about coming back to visit... but it's not like that's really going to happen. They might be from another kingdom but surely no one thinks that True Mates are something that happens outside of a fairytales about valiant knights rescuing princesses from dragons!</p><p>As it happens, Derek might think True Mates are a real thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The War Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will post a new chapter on Friday afternoons. I'm going to aim to have the chapter up in the early afternoon (Eastern Time). I do already have the first several chapters written, but they will be going up on the weekly schedule.

When the war had finally ended, the townspeople of Beacon Hills assumed that the political games of the court would cease to affect them further. Luckily they had only lost a handful of betas and two alphas to the battles in the most recent spate of fighting. Their village was not a border town, nor a sea port, nor a trading post, nor close enough to the castle to warrant any sort of attention from the nobility or royalty. They knew from the returning soldiers that the war had been lost and the commoner soldiers had been spared, mercifully allowed to return to their homes. Further than that, they knew little and expected it would be plenty. The kingdom of Francia and its rulers the Argents had been at war with the kingdom of Triskele and their rulers the Hales for several generations now. The Hales would be taking over the kingdom and it was likely that the Argents would be killed or made to serve the Hales. No one in Beacon Hills had ever met either royal family and they all expected it would not change.

Stiles was more than a little grateful for being a commoner in a small town in the middle of a random forest at the knowledge that the war had been lost. His mother had been of a more elevated status, graceful and composed and too well-educated to be anything less than nobility, but she had never given even his father her family name, sticking firmly to her story of having been born to a serving maid and a chef’s assistant. His father was one of the town elders but nothing for anyone to look twice at in this small town built around a family of woodcutters. The only reason that anyone looked twice at Stiles, who had inherited none of his mother’s grace and composure but all of her curiosity and strong will, was because he was an omega. He knew that it would be the omegas out of the nobles and royalty who were kept alive to serve the new rulers, and they would not be fetching sweetmeats or opening doors. Stiles was going about his daily chores, as usual, the soldiers that had returned nearly a week prior now still taking up much of his father’s time, and shuddered at the thought of the fate of the omegas who were born to a high enough status to be noticed outside of their own town. He would be allowed to choose his mate among those in the town who favored him and his father had allowed him to wait until he felt he was ready to be mated. Others were not so lucky. Some parents felt that an omega should be protected from mistakes by having their mate chosen for them, someone who had the means to provide for them and an inclination to protect. Other parents felt that omegas should be mated off young to prevent the follies of temptation and their omega children mated as soon as they attained their majority at sixteen. The omegas who were born into nobility and royalty were mated to someone their parents or their king or queen chose, promised as children and mated on their sixteenth birthday, often kept in seclusion from the rest of the court until then. Stiles had always assumed that was why his mother had run away and ended up in small Beacon Hills, where she had loved his father dearly but there had been few books and fewer luxuries. He could not imagine having his life chosen for him in that way, being hidden away for his entire childhood, and then expected to passively agree to everything that would be decided for him.

The Hales ruled a little differently from the Argents, the residents of Beacon Hills were to discover about a month following the end of the war. Apparently their small town actually was worthy of a royal visit. They were informed by a messenger only an hour before the royal caravan arrived. Stiles’ father rushed home in a panic to wash away the sweat of a morning’s work and put on his nicest clothing, the only reason Stiles heard anything at all. After all, Stiles was still puttering around the house, recovering from his cycle that had only ended the day before, still hungrier and grumpier than normal. As it was, his father decided that Stiles needed to go back out to the main square with him and forced Stiles into his own best shirt and trousers.

“I am not fit for company, forget a royal entourage!” Stiles tried to reason with his father, even as he obediently changed. After his mother’s death, he had tried to only be defiant if there was a truly good reason and being generally out of sorts did not qualify.

“They won’t speak to you at all and you will behave properly and not speak to them so it doesn’t matter. Straighten your shirt and belt your trousers.”

“Do I smell? I haven’t barely washed my face all week,” Stiles attempted a different tactic. His father stepped closer and pointedly inhaled.

“You smell fine.”

“You’re sure? You know I overheard Greenberg insisting that the Hales’ soldiers had better senses than most.”

“Greenberg is a beta. He probably was up against a squadron of trained alphas, rulers do tend to have organized groups of soldiers and the Hales were winning.”

“Greenberg’s a little strange but he’s not stupid,” Stiles grumbled.

“Stop arguing with me and get your belt on,” his father snapped. Stiles conceded and pulled out the braided leather belt that Heather had given him for his last birthday. His father nodded approvingly at the choice, looking down to check his own appearance before herding Stiles back out the door.

Most of the town was milling around aimlessly in shock and their best clothing in the main square. Stiles caught sight of Heather’s blonde hair and pushed through the crowd to his friend’s side.

“Heather!”

“Stiles!” she greeted him with a wide smile and a hug. “Are you up to being out and about?” her tone was concerned but not patronizing.

“I just lost some blood, I wasn’t dying,” Stiles scoffed. Heather blushed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I know how much I hate crowds,” she mumbled.

“And I’ll just stand next to you the whole time and keep everyone from bothering you,” Stiles declared dramatically. Heather giggled, blushing again. Stiles grinned back at her. He thought that of his options, Heather would probably be the best to be mated to. They were already friends and Heather was beautiful and seemed to let her eyes linger on him as well. His father would certainly approve the match. Stiles and Heather were still chatting as the royal caravan arrived in the square: two carriages and more people on horses than Stiles had ever expected to see in his life because there were only two families in Beacon Hills wealthy enough to have horses.

“Stiles!” his father snapped in an undertone, searching the crowd for him. Stiles and Heather shared a wince and Stiles rushed to his father’s side.

“I was with Heather,” he explained in a whisper.

“Oh,” his father replied softly. “Well, stay here.”

“Wasn’t planning on making a spectacle.”

“You never plan to,” his father teased. Stiles rolled his eyes but did not argue. It was true and this was not the place to get into an argument.


	2. Sleeping Trees

A sudden hush fell over the crowd as one of the servants reached for the carriage door. The first carriage’s door was opened and several dark-haired alphas climbed out. They all favored one another, most likely siblings but possibly close cousins. The eldest was a woman with a golden crown perched on the elaborate braids her hair was knotted into. The youngest was also a woman, though Stiles would guess that she was no older than he was, with similar braids but no crown. The one in the middle range of ages was a man, his hair cropped too short to braid like his sisters’ but longer than most men that Stiles had seen. He had a golden band around his head that seemed to also be some sort of status designation, like a crown.

The second carriage door revealed more varied nobility. There was a pretty blonde beta with riotous loose curls and a mouth red as though painted with berries. There was another blond, probably a beta but possibly an omega, his hair equally curly, though their facial features did not favor one another. The tallest of the group had skin almost as dark as ebony wood and was easily the broadest. His hair was cropped close to his head, like Stiles wore his own. He was taller and broader than the alphas but carried himself like a beta. The last person in the second carriage looked more like the siblings in the first carriage, and was the only one who Stiles felt comfortable calling an adult. The dark haired man was easily two decades his senior while the eldest of the rest was maybe one decade his senior and Stiles was not seventeen yet.

Stiles tried not to stare too openly while gawking at the richly dressed visitors. It would not be appropriate for him to observe too closely. His father, along with the other village elders, stepped forward.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills, your majesties,” his father greeted them. Stiles felt a proud smile stretch his face that his father had gotten that honor.

“Thank you,” the woman in the crown replied with a gentle voice. “We are pleased to have arrived.”

“If you could provide an escort, I am certain that her majesty and their highnesses would appreciate being able to check the local nemeton before being settled in the inn,” the dark haired adult hinted.

“Uncle!” the crowned woman chided.

“They were barely warned of our coming and I doubt you told the messenger to tell them why we’re even here,” he grumbled back.

“My daughter never gets lost in the woods,” Heather’s father stepped forward. “She can lead you to the tree you speak of. I am afraid that it was chopped down by some men from the castle in my youth but there is yet a wide stump in testament to the mighty oak it once was.”

“Cut down?” the man with a band around his forehead echoed the phrase seemingly in shock.

“Yes, your highness,” Heather’s father answered nervously.

“We would still like to see it,” the woman in the crown said definitively. Heather stepped out of crowd to Stiles’ left and he stepped forward with her, a steady presence for her. She did hate crowds.

“It is true that I know where the tree is. I will lead you to it.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied kindly. “Lead away.”

“Are you coming too?” Heather whispered.

“You know I’ll take any excuse to go into the woods,” Stiles lied. Heather smiled back in relief.

“I’ll bring him back safe,” she promised his father before starting across the square. Stiles kept pace with her. The visiting royalty and nobility followed them. It was more than a bit strange and Stiles felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle, probably at the three alphas walking behind him. Heather had never given him that feeling but they had known each other as long as they could remember.

The weather was pleasant, luckily. It was warm with just enough of a breeze to feel comfortable, rather than chilling. The sun was bright in the sky, filtering through the leaves more than enough light to clearly illuminate the path. Heather walked easily, confident in her steps. Stiles kept half his attention on her and the other half on the ground below him to keep from tripping. Falling on his face in front of a Queen and her closest relatives would certainly disappoint his father. Soon enough they reached the old stump, wider across than Stiles’ arm span, because it was only a short walk from the edge of the village. There was a reason that young couples would often sneak off from feasts to play at mating together by this particular stump.

Stiles wrapped his hand around Heather’s arm and pulled her back as the visiting royalty stepped forward. The woman in the crown closely inspected the roots, getting rather more dirty than Stiles would have expected of a woman of her station. The oldest man made a soft snorting noise.

“What, uncle?” the younger man with the golden band asked.

“I think it’s been given rather the wrong sort of offering recently,” his uncle replied, a smile pulling at his lips. The younger man shook his head. The blond man with the curls stifled laughter. Stiles noticed the blonde woman notice his gaze and hastily looked away, not wanting to offend anyone. Heather was watching the woman who was probably the queen a little more openly than Stiles would dare but no one seemed to take offense so he did not say anything.

“I’m Erica,” a woman’s voice interrupted the silence. Stiles and Heather turned to see the blonde woman at their side. “What are your names?”

“I’m Heather and this is Stiles,” Heather managed to introduce them.

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” Stiles added. Heather nodded emphatically in agreement. Erica smiled at them.

“I believe Peter cut the niceties short earlier and I thought it was poorly done not to know the names of our generous guides,” she murmured. Heather looked baffled at how to reply.

“It is generous of you to notice us,” Stiles said for both of them.

“Oh, there’s no need to be so formal, I barely have a title,” Erica said with a dismissive laugh. Stiles was now as speechless as Heather. “Well, I should finish the introductions, now that they’ve begun. The other blond is Lord Isaac. That lovely specimen of manhood is my mate, Boyd, he’s a knight. The old man with one foot nearly in his grave is Duke Peter.”  
“Rude!” Peter interrupted. Erica smiled impishly back.

“Of course, that’s Queen Laura in the crown, her brother Prince Derek and her sister Princess Cora. Everyone, our lovely guides are called Heather and Stiles.” Erica gestured at them as she said their names to further clarify the introduction. Everyone except the Queen nodded and murmured acknowledgment.

“I believe the tree is not dead, merely sleeping,” the Queen announced. Stiles looked to Heather in confusion. How could a tree be sleeping? But Heather looked as bewildered as he was. For that matter, how was the leftover stump of a tree cut down decades prior not a dead piece of wood? Stiles did not ask aloud though. It was not his place to question a Queen.

“That’s certainly a relief,” the Prince commented.

“I don’t know whether waking it would be good or bad,” his uncle added thoughtfully. “We’ll have to council about it. The most obvious way to wake it would be a tad extreme and possibly unfeasible given the location.”

“Yes, we’ll council about it when we return to the castle,” the Queen agreed. “I’ve got all the information we need for now. Heather, if you could lead us back to town?”

“Yes, of course, my Queen,” Heather said with a graceless attempt at a curtsey. Stiles put a hand out but she kept her balance as she straightened. Heather strode quickly off and Stiles attempted to keep pace with her without falling down. She slowed to a reasonable pace soon enough and Stiles caught up to her side.

As they neared the town again, Heather suddenly ran forward, jumped in the air and landed with an early plum in her hand and a triumphant grin on her face. Stiles grinned back, caught up in her joy, and missed a root in his path. The root caught the toe of his boot and he pitched forward with a yelp, only to be dragged back the other direction just as suddenly with strong hands tightly curled around his upper arms.

“Oh my god, Stiles!” Heather shrieked.

“Are you alright?” a man’s voice demanded urgently. “Are you hurt?”

Stiles sucked in a deep breath against both the sudden upsurge in anxiety around him and his shaking hands. “I’m fine.”

“You’re certain?” the same man asked, just as intensely. Stiles turned, finding himself looking into the face of the prince who was frowning in concern.

“Yes, your highness, I’m fine. Thank you for catching me.” The prince seemed to trust that answer or remember the situation as he let go of Stiles, who stumbled into Heather’s grip, and took several steps back.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Heather insisted, running her hands down his face and over his arms. “Stiles, you’re certain you didn’t hurt yourself? Your father would kill me!”

“I’m fine, didn’t even twist my ankle,” Stiles promised, brushing her hands away. He did not mention that he could feel the tenderness that meant he would have a bruise in a few hours where the prince’s hands had caught him. No one would see that and it had not been intentional. Once Heather had ascertained that Stiles was not exaggerating and could walk unaided without any trouble, they crossed the last distance back to the town.


	3. A Feast

Tara, one of the other town elders, escorted the visitors to the inn to get settled in for the night. Heather left with her father to get back to work. Stiles followed his own father back to their home.

“There’ll be a feast tonight,” he said. “Because of the royals.”

“The blonde Lady introduced herself. The three that were in the first carriage are the Queen, Prince, and Princess,” Stiles said. “Queen Laura, Prince Derek, Princess Cora. Their uncle’s a Duke; his name is Peter.”

“That’s useful information. I’ll pass it along. Did she happen to mention forms of address?”

“No, but she’s mated to that really tall man with the dark skin.”

“That’s less useful information.”

“That’s all she said. I didn’t think it appropriate to ask anything else.”

“Of course it wouldn’t have been,” his father agreed. “You didn’t embarrass yourself?”

“I tripped on a root…” he admitted.

“Did you manage to catch yourself? You’re still clean.”

“I had some help.” For some reason, he did not want to tell his father that the Prince had caught him.

“Heather’s a good alpha, lovely head on her shoulders,” his father commented with a knowing smile. He had obviously assumed that the only person Stiles had known had been the one to catch him, which sounded much more reasonable than the truth of the matter. “Are you feeling up to attending the feast tonight?” he asked. Stiles was quiet for a moment, carefully considering the matter. Heather did not like crowds but it was unlikely he would be allowed to sit with her so that was not really a reason to go… And Stiles had no head for wine and so would likely make a fool of himself in front of royalty...

“No, I don’t feel much up to it, if that’s fine with you. I’ll just have something here and maybe get some laundry done. Sky looks clear enough.”

“The clear weather should hold long enough for everything to dry,” his father agreed. “It’s fine with me if you stay home. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” Stiles bit back the instinctive response that he had not been ill, only going through a perfectly natural phase of lassitude due to perfectly natural blood loss and that he was hardly going to keel over going to a feast. He did not want to go to the feast and his father was agreeing with him.

His father headed back out to help the rest of the elders prepare for the feast while Stiles got started on the laundry by hauling up the water from their well. He briefly got that feeling of being watched, the hair on his neck standing on end, but as he looked around there was no one to be seen and he felt no such feeling on the next trip to the well. He washed their clothes and bedding and rinsed them thoroughly and hung them on the line just before the sun set. He could hear the feast revelry beginning, see the smoke from the bonfire. Stiles went back inside and puttered around, trying to decide what to fix for his supper. Cooking for one person was always an exercise in frustration because he inevitably made far too much.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Stiles padded over to open the door. It was likely Heather come to check on him.

“Hey, Heather, I just…” Stiles trailed off, mouth hanging open. It was not Heather who was at his door. It was the Prince! “Your highness?” Stiles refused to admit that the high pitched squeak had come from him. There was obviously a mouse nearby.

“I came to see that you were alright. I noticed that you were not at the feast and I was hoping that you had not harmed yourself worse than you first suspected when you tripped earlier.”

“That is very… kind of you.” Stiles did not know what to say. This was a near stranger and an alpha and he was home alone. It would be very improper to invite him in, could easily be read the wrong way. But this was also the Prince and it was rude to leave someone standing on the doorstep. “I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. I was not mistaken earlier.”

“That is good,” the Prince said stiltedly. “I thought I had gotten a whiff of blood when I caught you. I am glad to be wrong.” Stiles felt all of his aforementioned blood rush to his face.

“Perfectly fine,” he replied, voice high-pitched and very embarrassing and unfortunately not a mouse. The Prince’s ears pinked, clearly understanding the situation.

“I apologize… I meant no…”

“Of course not,” Stiles babbled back. “No offense was given. You merely made an observation. It was very kind of you to be concerned…” he forcibly stopped his mouth by biting his lips together.

“Well… I… Are you not coming to the feast?” the Prince asked. Stiles gratefully latched on to the change in subject.

“I had not planned on it,” he admitted. “It was very kind of you to check on me but I imagine they will be missing you.”

“So this is where you wandered off to, your highness,” Stiles’ father interrupted the conversation. “Did my son introduce himself? He’s called Stiles.”

“I believe Lady Erica introduced all of us earlier,” the Prince replied. “When I saw he was not at the feast I feared that he had harmed himself more than he realized, tripping over that root.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” his father murmured. “Luckily Stiles had someone to catch him.”

“Yes,” the Prince agreed simply. Stiles tried not to die of embarrassment.

“I will lead you back to the feast, now that your mind has been put to ease?” his father offered.

“You are coming with us, are you not?” the Prince asked, turning to Stiles. Stiles looked to his father for guidance, who nodded pointedly.

“Of course,” he agreed weakly. He stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him; thankfully he was still fully dressed from being outside with the laundry. There was a moment of awkward silence as they all started towards the meeting house.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your mate?” the Prince broke the silence, addressing Stiles’ father.

“No,” he agreed. “You won’t meet her. My Claudia died eight years ago.”

“My condolences.”

“It is an old wound now.”

“Does Stiles favor her?” the Prince asked, obviously casting about for a safe topic for conversation while they walked. Apparently he was talkative.

“Stiles got my fair skin. Claudia darkened more easily. But he got her eyes.” Stiles’ father cupped his chin, tipping his head to angle his eyes into the moonlight.

The Prince hummed. “I can see why you mated her. She must have been quite beautiful with eyes as captivating as those.” Stiles choked on thin air and tripped over his feet and his father absently caught him while still gawking at the Prince.

“Yes, Claudia was very beautiful,” he replied dumbly. The Prince nodded, a small smile on his lips and amusement in his eyes. Stiles quickly averted his gaze to the ground before he fell over again. There was a tense silence as they crossed the last distance to the meeting house.

“You both must sit with us,” the Prince insisted as they entered the hall.

“Of course, your highness,” Stiles’ father agreed with a weak voice. Stiles trailed after the two alphas helplessly. He had wanted to stay in to avoid making a fool out of himself. Now he was certainly going to make a fool out of himself in front of not only the entire village but also at the same table as royalty with one of them toying with flirting with him. Stiles had no doubt that the Prince meant absolutely no promises by his bold statement. They were strangers and Stiles was a commoner and it was very unlikely that they would ever see each other again. Obviously he was only teasing, speaking in some sort of jest, amusing himself for the evening. Unfortunately for Stiles’ sake given the present situation, everyone had sort of assumed that he would mate with Heather for the past several years and he was unused to being flirted with. He knew in his soul that this meal would not go well. Judging by his father’s expression of tired resignation, Stiles was not the only one with this knowledge.

“There you are,” the Queen exclaimed teasingly as they approached the table. “I was about to send a search party, little brother!”

“There’s no need for hysterics,” the Prince replied.

“What strays have you picked up this time?” his uncle asked with a smirk. “You know full well that it’s rude to take things that belong to other people.”

“I brought his father with me,” the Prince said, as though that decided the matter. His younger sister broke into loud peals of laughter while his older sister shook her head.

“Do forgive their manners, Elder Stilinski. Please, have a seat,” the Queen said warmly. Stiles let his father figure out the appropriate seating arrangement. After a moment, he was pushed into a seat and his father sat down next to him. The Prince was on the other side of his father. Stiles had no problem with there being a buffer between himself and certain humiliation.

He had an additional bit of luck: Heather’s omega sister was serving the table they had been seated at. Lavender knew that he had no head for wine and she liked him well enough that she put the watered beer for the children in his cup. Stiles smiled gratefully at her and she smiled back.

“Can’t have you humiliating your father in front of royalty,” she whispered before side stepping and pouring wine for his father.

“So, Stiles,” the Princess addressed him from down the table. “What’s the understanding between you and that pretty alpha who guided us this afternoon? What was her name again?”

“It was Heather, Cora,” the Queen answered before Stiles could, a rebuke in her tone. “Erica clearly introduced the both of them. And your other question is none of our concern.”

“Oh, I was just making conversation…” the Princess replied.

“We will be leaving in the morning,” the Queen stated. She seemed to be looking more at her brother than her sister.

“Will you miss me?” the Prince asked suddenly, turning towards Stiles. He glanced towards his father who had a rather uncharacteristic interest in the greens on his plate. Obviously his father would be no help.

“Who would not miss you, your highness?” Stiles countered. There. That was polite and agreeable without making him look like an idiot omega who would throw themselves at any alpha’s feet. A smirk tugged at the Prince’s lips.

“I’m not certain if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” he murmured, leaning across Stiles’ father. Stiles was more than a little irritated that all his father did was move out of the way.

“I wouldn’t insult someone I had only just met who did nothing to insult me,” Stiles replied honestly. “Besides, it would be very stupid to insult royalty.”

“Isn’t he adorable?” the Princess cooed. Stiles managed to keep back his wince but not the flinch. The Prince noticed it and frowned thoughtfully. His sisters seemed to have missed it.

“Yes, absolutely precious,” the Queen grumbled. Stiles had to hold back laughter at her reply. He was only of any interest to anyone because he was an omega. Had he been a beta, not a man who could bear children, he would be too awkward and graceless for anyone to look twice at him, forget call him such names. At least she was honest about it. Her brother was obviously amusing himself but there was no need for the Princess to call him sweet things.

“He’s certainly beautiful,” the Prince said. The Queen looked up suddenly, eyes narrowing as she studied her brother closely. Stiles could not see his expression but the Queen clearly found some answer to whatever she had been wondering. She turned her gaze to Stiles himself, who quickly averted his gaze.

“Look at me,” she ordered. Stiles looked back at her while she studied him. It turned out the Queen was only a woman after all. She had lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, cream on the bags under her eyes, a bit of dirt at her hairline. “He does have some sort of spirit in his expression,” she finally said. “It’s inviting rather than off-putting.” The Queen sighed, her eyes closing in nothing more than a long blink before she was smiling again. “I suppose that question Cora asked you earlier might be more our business than I first suspected. Won’t you tell us a little about yourself, Stiles?”

“What are you asking?” his father finally spoke up. Stiles felt a wave of relief that almost made him light-headed.

“Is there anything tying your son here?”

“Please say there isn’t,” the Prince murmured pleadingly.

“Derek!” his uncle hissed. “God knows your mother and I spent enough time teaching you manners, you could have the decency to pretend you remember them in public.”

“Stiles, there isn’t any formal agreement between you and Heather yet?” his father asked. Stiles knew that he had surely missed something in the conversation, some transition. After a moment, he slowly shook his head. That was the truth.

“No, nothing formal, Dad. You know I would have told you if there were.”

“What did you just say?” the uncle asked. Stiles blinked. Had he said something odd?

“I just said that I would have told my father if there were any formal agreement,” he explained.

“Who taught you grammar?” the Queen asked. Oh, was that all it was?

“My mother did. She was born to a serving maid in some castle somewhere. They pick things up, she told me.”

“My mate was certainly well-educated,” his father agreed with a smile. “She wished for our son to be as well but we don’t have the means here in town and I couldn’t bear to be parted from him after her death.”

“As though I would have left you,” Stiles scoffed. Instead of the usual fond expression, his father shook his head minutely and narrowed his eyes. Suddenly Stiles completely understood why Heather hated crowds. Was this how she felt all the time? Missing the change in atmosphere or topic and scrambling to catch up? It was horrible.

“I don’t want to put any sort of pressure,” the Prince mumbled. Stiles stifled a gasp as he suddenly understood. Apparently, the Queen had decided that her brother was in earnest in his attentions. Apparently, to some extent, he was in earnest. They were asking Stiles to leave with them in the morning!

“I…” Stiles had no voice with which to make any sort of reply even if he could manage a coherent thought beyond but I don’t even know you!

“I think he’s just in shock,” the uncle mused. “Of course, I can’t say as I blame the boy. This morning, all he knew about the Hale royal family was that they existed and this evening a prince is asking him to move into the castle.” The Queen winced.

“Yes, that’s a point,” she murmured. “Suppose you leave him here and come back for a few visits first?” she suggested.

“That would cause more talk and possibly a scandal,” the Princess stated firmly. “In order to keep the Court from gossiping, they have to have access to information. If they know everything that’s happening, then it is old news and boring and they’ll discuss a different subject.”

“Cora’s suggestion did work for your romance,” her uncle agreed.

“My mate wasn’t a child who’s barely got the status to warrant a surname,” the Queen hissed back. “He was only raised at a different court.” Her uncle shrugged elegantly and settled back in his seat with a mild expression. Stiles felt a moment of envy.

“Your interest in older men does not make everyone younger than you a child,” the Prince insisted. “Stiles has certainly attained his majority.”

“Trust you to focus on the less important point,” his sister grumbled.

“Dad,” Stiles whispered, “What do I say?” The royals were too busy quibbling about the appropriate way to present a commoner to court to be eavesdropping.

“He’s a Prince, you ninny, you say yes!” His father looked absolutely exasperated.

“But I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me and…”

“And…?” his father echoed menacingly.

“What if he hears how much I talk and sends me straight home?”

“Well, you’d certainly never be mated to anyone else,” his father agreed absently, before the information sank in and he turned a funny shade of pale. “This could go horribly wrong…”

“With permanent consequences,” Stiles agreed.

“The little omega makes a very good point,” the uncle said suddenly. Stiles and his father startled. Apparently someone had been eavesdropping. “You’re worried about gossip when their family honor is at stake. We will leave the pretty omega here with his father, where he belongs, when we leave in the morning. No, Derek, don’t interrupt. Once we are done with the council about the tree, if you still feel for the boy whatever it is you’ve talked yourself into in the past six hours, you will come back and spend a couple days to ascertain that it wasn’t your pride or loneliness talking and then you may bring him back with you if he agrees.”

“But that council could take up to a month!” the Prince protested.

“Plenty of time for you to get over your infatuation if in fact you’re only feeling lonely and no time at all in the grand scheme if it’s more than that,” the Queen replied decisively. “Additionally, I imagine that Stiles would like some time to consider the matter dispassionately and a month should be ample time for him to come to a decision and explore any other options he might have. You don’t want the boy to feel pressured, do you?”

“I hate it when you make sense,” the Prince grumbled.

“It’s for the best.”

“If you insist,” he conceded on a sigh.

“I do. And I’m also going to insist that you accompany me back to the inn after this meal.”

“Laura! I would never!” the Prince looked perhaps more offended than Stiles thought was reasonable. The man had been offering mating earlier, unless Stiles had seriously misunderstood the conversation, and now he was surprised that his sister thought he might try to attempt some intimacy? It seemed a little ridiculous to be quite so surprised at her conclusions and perfectly reasonable assurance that her brother not try something inappropriate so that he would not have to wait a whole month.

Stiles felt quite relieved by the decision that the Queen had made. The Prince did not know him; they had scarcely been acquainted a few hours and spent less in each other’s company. The royals would return to their castle and talk about that dead tree stump sleeping the years away and the Prince would meet another omega and forget him and Stiles would go back to skirting around a formal agreement with Heather for another year or two and then he would mate with Heather.


	4. Separation and Reunion

Luckily for Stiles’ sanity, the feast ended soon after that discussion did. No one really seemed to be able to break the silence that had settled at their table. The Prince left with his sisters and Stiles left with his father.

“Well, that’s a relief,” his father said, closing the door behind them.

“Yes,” Stiles agreed. “There’s no way he’ll remember me in a week, much less if their council about the tree stump takes longer. He’ll move on and I’ll mate with Heather in another year or two.”

“Did you have any inkling of his caring for you prior to him fetching you to attend the feast?”

“No, not at all. He had barely spoken to me,” Stiles paused. “Well, I was staring at Heather when I tripped. He was the one who caught me. But I assumed it was good breeding or general decency.”

“Someone catching you when you try to fall on your face doesn’t generally indicate that they’re harboring a secret love for you,” his father agreed. “Especially when you’ve just barely been introduced.”

“I think we’re fairly safe in assuming that after we wave off the royal caravan tomorrow, we won’t see any of them again.”

“I agree.” His father slowly nodded. “But, if the council is quickly over and the Prince does return, then what would you do?”

“Well… I suppose that I would simply ramble at him about something gross and see if he gets right back in his carriage and leaves.”

“Stiles!”

“He’d be taking me with him to mate me, Dad. If he’s going to be my mate, I can’t live the rest of my life on my best behavior even in private.”

“True.” His father sighed. “I can’t fault that line of reasoning. Well, we won’t expect him but if he does return, you’ll simply have to prominently display your less endearing traits and see how he reacts. But there is a slim possibility that he won’t turn straight around and leave.”

“What?” Stiles knew that he was not the easiest person to get along with. The possibility that the Prince would remember him, return to see him, and not be scared off by his natural behavior… it was too slim to concern himself with.

“Your mother was from Triskele. Apparently, there’s a belief in something called true mates that’s quite common there.”

“Oh!” Stiles interrupted. “I remember mama telling me something like that. It was a bedtime story, though, some sort of fanciful thing about a princess and dragons and a tower.”

“Well, the true mate part is a widely held belief where these people are from. If the Prince has convinced himself that you’re his… well, he might be hard to dissuade. What if he’s still interested? What are you going to say?”

“Uh…” Stiles had no answer.

“Are you in love with Heather?”

“I love her. We would be happy together.”

“So, that’s a no.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“What about this Prince? Do you like him?”

“How can I know if I like him when we’ve barely spoken? I don’t know him enough to really have an opinion. Especially for something like getting mated. That’s pretty permanent!”

“Well, did you feel anything for him?”

“I was grateful he caught me,” Stiles said with a shrug. “I was shocked that he had come to the house. Not really emotions to base a permanent relationship on here.” His father agreed with a wince. Stiles was certainly not lying about the fact that he did not know the Prince well enough to have formed any sort of opinion.

“If you aren’t in love with Heather or anyone else, I’d suggest you agree to mate with him if the Prince isn’t scared off by you running your mouth. He’s certainly not going to have to worry about money and his life is too public for him to hurt you physically.”

“That’s a great reason to mate someone, Dad,” he grumbled.

“I just want to know that you’ll be taken care of, kiddo.”

“I know that.”

“So, on the off chance that he actually does come back and the slimmer chance that he doesn’t run away…”

“A Prince certainly isn’t a suitor to sneer at,” Stiles agreed. “I really don’t think he’ll come back.”

“Possibly not. But he might have convinced himself that you’re meant to be.”

“This is real life, Dad, not a bedtime story.”

“It’s not me who needs convincing.”

.

The next morning, the Prince was at their door as Stiles was pulling on his trousers. His father let the other alpha in the house while Stiles was still barefoot. It left him feeling more than a little wrong-footed while the Prince protested his love and swore that he would return as soon as the council was finished.

“You mustn’t doubt what I feel for you!” he insisted. Stiles was uncertain if he should take the man seriously or not. His father mouthed something that looked like True Mates over the Prince’s shoulder. Stiles hoped that his father was mistaken.

“Derek,” the Queen interrupted the awkwardly one-sided conversation. “It’s time for us to go.”

“Already?”

“We delayed an hour for you to bid your little omega goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye!” he snapped.

“Of course not,” she agreed in a placating tone. Stiles knew in that moment that she thought it as unlikely as he did that her brother would return to Beacon Hills. The Prince left with his sister and then the royal caravan left the town. Stiles stood among the rest of the townspeople, using the royals as an excuse to start their work just a little bit later than usual. After all, they were unlikely to ever have another royal visit and it was only for one day.

.

Stiles was fairly easily startled for the following week. He was uncertain if he was in happy anticipation or scared out of his wits at the idea of the Prince actually keeping his sudden promises and returning. Either way, he was in a state of constant alert that kept him jumping at every noise. His father seemed to be the same way about horse hoofbeats along the road. Every time anyone passed by on horseback, he stiffened the way he did when he wanted to hide his flinching. Stiles had never quite mastered that skill. So he jumped into the air every time there was a noise louder than his heartbeat.

As the first week faded into the second, Stiles and his father both stopped startling quite so easily. They both had agreed that the longer it took, the less likely it was that the Prince would return. Stiles felt a little distressed, mostly in that his ego was bruised, but he mostly felt relief at the idea of not having to worry about navigating a formal courtship with a Prince. His father seemed to be equally relieved, if his smiles could be trusted.

As a fortnight became three weeks, Stiles settled back into his routines. His father was also back to normal. At that point, neither of them expected the Prince to return. Stiles knew that the council itself could last up to a month, but as the weeks passed, he felt the possibility of the Prince returning was quickly dwindling. Heather seemed to get more anxious as Stiles got less concerned. He had, of course, told his best friend about the situation with the Prince. That first week, she had been completely unconcerned. The second week, she had been a little concerned and distracted. With the third week, Heather was nearly impossible to talk to and as jumpy as Stiles had been that first week.

The fourth week, Stiles was a trifle lonely. His father was certain enough of the Prince not returning that he did not try to be home in case of the man’s arrival when he would be better serving out in the community. Heather was impossible to be around, constantly swinging her head around to growl at anything that made the slightest sound. Stiles kept the house spotless for lack of anything better to do. Without his father or Heather for company, he had to invent tasks to keep himself occupied and reading the four books his mother had left him only lasted so long.

The fifth week, Stiles was too busy bleeding to be lonely. His father and Heather were no more present than they had been the week before, but there was food in the house and all Stiles had to do was eat and sleep and not snap at his father for smelling strange. It was both relaxing and torturous.

By the end of the fifth week, Stiles had completely stopped counting days and weeks since the royal visit. The council could have taken up to a month, or a moon cycle, which was four weeks. That time had already passed and there was no worry now about when or how the Prince might possibly show back up in Beacon Hills. So, of course, that’s when the Prince showed back up.

It had been four weeks and six days and Stiles had just barely stopped bleeding when someone woke them pounding on the door in the middle of the night. There was a roll of thunder and flash of lightning.

“What the hell?” Stiles grumbled.

“Language!” his father chastised. “This better be a goddamn emergency.” His father got out of bed and padded towards the door.

“And you rebuke my language?” Stiles muttered mutinously under his breath even as he sat up curiously. Who in the world would be at the door at this hour, in this weather? His father was an elder, not a doctor or midwife.

“Your highness!” his father exclaimed as he took in the scene on the other side of the door. Stiles’ mouth fell open. “Come in! Come in! We must get you out of those wet things before you catch your death!” His father was not jesting. The Prince stepped through the door, soaked to the bone. Stiles felt a jolt of emotion at the sight: something not quite simple compassion but not pity either.

“Why on Earth would you have ridden out in such a storm?” Stiles demanded, getting out of bed himself with no thought to his lack of trousers.

“It was only cloudy when I left and the storm did not start beyond a few stray raindrops until I was much closer here than home.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Stiles added.

“The council took longer than even I suspected. I feared you would think I had forgotten you.”

“I’ll admit the thought crossed my mind,” Stiles said wryly.

“Here, your highness,” his father interrupted, holding out his other shirt. “I hope this fits well.”

“Thank you.” The Prince stripped off his shirt and Stiles had to avert his eyes. The man was very physically impressive. He suddenly felt very exposed. The Prince was covered in muscles, not an ounce of fat on him anywhere from the glance that Stiles had gotten. “I’m covered,” he said, amusement clear in his tone after a moment. Stiles turned to see the Prince in his father’s shirt and nothing else. Well, this was lovely. Stiles scooped up the wet clothing up from the floor and puttered over to the fire, hanging it from the mantle to dry and giving himself a distraction.

“Of course you must stay here tonight. We couldn’t send you back out in the rain and it would be late to wake up Tara to get you a room at the inn,” his father commented. Stiles froze for a moment before continuing his self-appointed task of hanging the clothing to dry. There was a pause even after that before a reply came.

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Yes, let us all get to bed. Stiles?” Stiles hung up the last sock.

“Ready,” he agreed. At least for once Stiles was not the one confused. The Prince was looking around the room in clear confusion at the lack of multiple sleeping areas. “Yes, we only have the one bed. Dad will be in the middle. If that’s too scandalous, you can sleep on the hearth. It’s plenty warm there.”

“Stiles!” his father snapped. “You should offer the Prince our bed.”

“Um, how about no? He shows up in the middle of the night in a storm, he should be glad we opened the door and gave him dry clothes instead of understandably assuming he was some sort of criminal. I am not sleeping on the hearthstone.”

“I would never dream of turning you out of your beds!” the Prince had the decency to sound scandalized. Stiles was not certain how much he believed it, but it was good of the man to realize that was inappropriate.

“Alright, everyone in one bed, then. Stiles, you go by the wall.” Stiles conceded easily to his father’s suggestion and climbed back in bed. His father slid in behind him. The Prince perched himself on the edge. Stiles snuggled into his father’s warmth and fell easily back asleep with the rain pattering on the roof.


	5. Derek's POV

It had been a very long ride back to the castle, despite it being less than a day’s journey. All of Derek’s instincts were insisting that he needed to get back to his mate immediately, while he knew that Laura was right and he needed to be rational about the matter. Cora was snickering cruelly at his discomfort and Laura looked mildly embarrassed by both of them. Derek bolted out of the carriage the instant they came to a stop.

“Please don’t forget supper!” Laura called after him. Derek heard her but did not stop to acknowledge it. He needed to get out to the practice field and get out his frustration at being separated from his mate before his irritation got the better of him.

Derek barreled into the middle of the sparring knights with no thought to the potential reaction. One of them pressed a sword into his hand as he was oriented toward a straw-stuffed dummy. Derek began hacking away without thought to form or efficacy, only to work out the restless energy thrumming in his blood.

“Is that normal?” Derek heard one of the Francian recruits ask. It was the one with the crooked jaw and pretty puppy eyes who had nearly taken out three trained knights by himself when his squadron had been captured. Once it became clear that he had never met any of the Argents in his life and owed them no loyalty, Laura had quickly offered him a chance to join their army. The boy had accepted. Derek thought he was a promising young knight, who would likely be a formidable man once he learned how to listen to his instincts.

“Derek took a liking to an omega in the town we were in,” Isaac answered the boy. Apparently he was the one who had been told to follow.

“So… why is he…?”

“The omega had to stay in that little town and Derek had to spend hours sitting in a carriage, stewing about it. He’s just restless. Derek doesn’t like carriage rides anyway. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” the boy sounded very doubtful about the matter.

“Scott, believe me, Derek will be fine once he’s worked out his energy. I don’t understand why every time he does something the slightest bit odd, you smell like your life is endangered.”

“The first time I met him, he nearly tore my throat out!” Scott hissed. “That tends to make a man wary.”

“You nearly killed three knights before Derek got anywhere near you in that battle. He attacked for a reason, not that anyone would know it to hear you tell the story,” Isaac chided. Scott made a scoffing noise. Derek sliced through the dummy with a low growl, spinning to face Scott and Isaac.

“Would you stop talking about me as though I’m not right next to you?” he snarled. Scott jumped backwards. Isaac just made an apologetic expression.

“Sorry, Derek,” he muttered.

“It’s just rude,” Derek grumbled.

“Less rude than actually doing what Laura asked me to,” Isaac said leadingly. Derek’s curiosity was piqued. He raised his eyebrows in question. “She thought I should ask you about the omega.”

“He has a name,” Derek pointed out. Isaac shrugged.

“Feeling better yet?”

“A little,” he admitted. “Do you want to grab a sword?” Isaac did and they sparred until Peter fetched them so that Derek would not miss supper and worry Laura. By the time Peter showed up, Derek was feeling much better and willing to wash up and sit down for a meal.

For the first few days, Derek was mostly fine. He noticed that Laura seemed to be exploring every possible avenue of research about the Nemeton rather than immediately jumping into discussing potential solutions, but he thought that she was only taking their mother’s advice into account. She had brought up multiple times that although being solution-oriented was a good thing, that Laura ought to make certain that she knew what all the options were before she began implementing a solution. But then days became a full week and still no moves towards any sort of decision had been made. Cora was constantly showing her amusement about the situation and Laura herself looked a little frustrated with the glacial pace of the council proceedings. Peter was pointedly keeping away from everyone in a way that suggested that if it came to choosing sides, he would not pick the one he ought to.

As it became two weeks, Derek took to pointedly avoiding his sisters when he was not in council. Laura might have a point that the Nemeton was not an urgent issue, having already been cut down for so many years, but that had not changed her stance on Derek not being able to return to Beacon Hills until the council about the Nemeton was concluded. Derek attempted once to convince her that returning at the end of the fortnight would be a perfectly reasonable amount of time. Laura refused to see reason.

“A fortnight is both a reasonable length in that it is fourteen days to mull over a decision and also only two weeks, which is not so much time as to cause stress on a fledgling bond,” Derek had argued in a calm voice.

“We agreed to the end of the Nemeton council, Derek,” Laura had replied, her voice equally calm. “It will not be concluded at the end of the week.”

“Because you are needlessly drawing it out,” Derek countered.

“I am exploring all of my options,” Laura snapped. “Besides, you need to distance yourself from this omega a little. You only knew him a few hours. You barely spoke to him. How can you be certain that this is different from the last time you thought you found your True Mate?”

“It feels completely different, Laura, I promise you. Why won’t you trust me?”

“Because you’re impulsive and stubborn and this is for the best, Derek. By the end of next week you won’t even remember his name.”

“Is that why you stalled me?” Derek balked. “Do you really think I’m going to spend my heat week with someone right now?”

“Aren’t you?” Laura asked. Her expression looked like she honestly thought that he definitely was.

“No! I’m not!”

“You did when you were betrothed to Kate. Honestly, Derek, don’t torture yourself to try and prove a point to me.”

“This is different, Laura.”

“No, it’s really not.” Laura sighed pityingly at him. Derek turned and left before he said something cruel that he might regret later.

“It could very well be different this time. Your brother’s not a child anymore, Laura,” her mate spoke up as the door closed behind Derek. Despite his curiosity, Derek kept walking rather than eavesdrop. It was rude and he would probably only hear something that would upset him.

It became obvious to everyone who was not his sister that Derek was quite serious about Stiles being his mate as the days ran up to his heat. He turned down every offer for company he got and made arrangements to be forcibly enclosed in his room for the duration. After all, everyone knew that alphas who went into heat without the mate they wanted sometimes went a little heat crazy and he did not want to show back up in Beacon Hills in heat. No one would appreciate that. Peter publically took over the preparations, much to Laura’s consternation, showing everyone that he believed Derek.

Derek’s heat week was absolutely miserable. He wanted nothing more than to be released from the hell his body was putting him through. He had not gone through a heat without any company in his life, having had at least his dad to pat his head and assure him he was not truly dying when he was young, and the added discomfort of knowing that the one mate he wanted was not with him certainly did not aid matters. Of course, Laura did not help either. She decided that she was going to prove a point and ordered Peter to allow her to take an omega into Derek’s chambers. It went horribly. Derek did not want the poor servant girl. Laura pressed the matter. The servant girl left with a broken arm and Laura left with a bloody nose, black eye, and scratches down her face.

Everyone except Laura and Cora believed Derek about his new mate when he emerged from his rooms at the beginning of the fourth week after his separation from Stiles. It became the most interesting topic for gossip in the castle. Apparently Cora had been correct on that matter: the less solid information available, the more prevalent the gossip. Derek shrugged it off. Most of the gossip, at least that Derek heard, was in his and Stiles’ favor, in that it mostly centered around how attractive the omega must be and how distressing it must be for both of them to have been so quickly separated.

Although Derek put on an appropriate expression in public, and attended council and audiences and training, he spent much of his time alone moping in his rooms. He was extremely impatient for the stupid council to be finished. It had already been ascertained that the only sure way to wake a Nemeton and begin new growth was a string of ritual human sacrifice, which was obviously not a direction they were pursuing. So either they left it alone entirely or they sent someone with magic to see if offerings other than death and copious amounts of blood could wake it. As they had no one at loose ends with magic, obviously they would be leaving the damn thing alone rather than risking a Nemeton waking under the control of a different court’s Emissary. But Laura was still dragging the council out. Derek was positive it was only to drive him mad.

“It is not only to drive you mad,” Erica insisted. After she had mated to Boyd, Erica had insinuated herself into Derek’s life. He had accepted the circumstances as inevitable easily enough. Boyd was still his most favored and trusted knight. Boyd was sitting with them, of course, and made a noise of agreement.

“Laura cannot possibly still not believe me that Stiles is my mate after that disaster with that poor kitchen maid last week,” Derek pointed out. “Even her own mate believes me. So what can possibly be the point of continuing to drag out the council when the answer has been obvious?”

“She’s concerned for you,” Erica stated firmly. “She is your older sister and the last time you thought you should settle down, it ended badly. I’m quite certain she’s only being overly cautious in an attempt to protect you. Besides, everyone is well aware she can’t drag this out much longer. By the end of next week, she’ll have to declare a decision or the gossip will turn from wondering what color Stiles’ eyes are to wondering whether Laura is a competent Queen.”

“I know. But time seems to be moving so slowly,” Derek grumbled.

“You always complain of that when you’re in anticipation of something,” Boyd commented mildly. “And afterwards you insist that it was only the blink of an eye to wait. It’ll be the same this time. There’s no need to worry.”

“I’m sure Stiles will be ecstatic about your return,” Erica added. “And his father will quickly agree to the mating and you will be back here with Stiles within a fortnight.”

“I hope so,” Derek agreed. He just had this feeling in his chest of ill tiding, and it kept spreading. He knew that it had to be the stress of distance on a fledgling bond, but that did not keep Derek from fretting that there was more to it, that perhaps Stiles was in some sort of trouble and Derek was twiddling his thumbs waiting for his sister’s approval.

As Derek had suspected, his sister waited the longest she could before declaring that the Nemeton would be left alone until such time as someone trustworthy, but who could also be spared for potentially weeks on end, could be sent to test its power. So it had been four weeks and six days and the suspicious looks in Laura’s direction had already begun from the more daring of the court gossips. Derek had been restless and anxious all week, the emotions building and building without ebbing. He had slept little and ate less. So when his sister finally made her declaration, Derek returned directly to his room, threw a few shirts and trousers in his saddlebags with a small purse of money for the inn and ignored the scent of distant lightning and rain as he saddled his horse and rode off into the brewing storm. He would not be able to wait until morning, no matter that he would probably arrive in the middle of the night.


	6. Worst Behavior and Ill Manners

The following morning, his father was summoned about dawn for something about a horse. Stiles simply rolled into the warm spot and went back to sleep. A little while later, he woke to the acrid smell of burnt porridge.

“Oh, dear god, who’s dying?” he demanded, fighting his way out of the blankets. The Prince was standing next to the hearth, looking down in horror at the pot that had been swung back away from the fire.

“I thought I would make breakfast. I’m not sure how I managed to burn it.”

“Have you ever cooked before?” Stiles asked. The Prince shook his head. He had not. “Well, that would be how you burned it.” Stiles heaved a big sigh. “Go sit somewhere. I’ll fix something.”

“Aren’t you upset?” the Prince murmured.

“Sure, I’m irritated. Mostly at this smell. But I’m not going to yell at someone for doing something wrong when they’ve never done it before. It was pretty stupid of you to try it by yourself but cooking doesn’t look hard. My first attempt at cooking by myself was stewed carrots. It was a bad choice, also much harder than it looks.”

“Yeah, the maid warms the porridge on my fire every morning and it looks simple,” the Prince agreed.

“Oh,” Stiles chuckled. “That’s not quite how you cook it to start with. She’s just warming it after it’s already been cooked. That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Very,” Stiles nodded. “Oh, you have trousers on already. Good. I trust you can manage pumping water from that pump in the back of the house and scrubbing this mess out?”

“I know how to work a water pump,” the Prince agreed with clear relief.

“Here’s the scouring brush,” Stiles handed it to him. “You clean that and I’ll be ready to make edible porridge when you get back.”

The Prince left with pot and scrub brush and Stiles took the opportunity to quickly wash his face, hands, and under his arms, and put on a fresh shirt and clean trousers. He was fully dressed and had aired the smell of burnt porridge out before the Prince returned with the clean pot. Stiles had made a fresh batch of porridge and doled it out before he remembered that he had planned to try and shock the Prince, behaving badly, if he returned. Well, the Prince had returned and the plan seemed as sound as when he had made it. If Stiles was engineering the situation a little, well, it would be much better to find out if the Prince could not handle his flaws or if the Prince had unforgiveable flaws of his own before Stiles went anywhere with the man.

“Thank you for breakfast,” the Prince murmured, almost shyly. Stiles nodded back.

“I had to make some for myself anyway. Besides, it’s only porridge. Porridge is a lovely meal, cheap, filling, almost never any waste… You rather ought to thank me had I slaughtered a chicken for you. Now chickens… that’s a waste of money. Hens are lovely for eggs but chickens for meat are a total waste. Almost the only edible meat on a chicken is the breast. The whole rest of the bird goes to absolute waste unless you had enough money to get it fat enough there’s meat above the legs. Can’t eat the head, legs or wings, won’t eat the organs… such a damned waste.”

“Language!” Stiles father snapped as he walked in. “Highness, it was your horse trampled into the Posey corn fields. We got him put up in the stables at the inn but I think you might speak to the man once you’ve finished eating.” The poor Prince looked like he had whiplash. He was already a little pale from listening to Stiles but had said nothing about Stiles gabbing on with his mouth full nor about the inappropriate subject for a meal. He had not lost his temper and had at least made the appearance of listening. Stiles thought that was probably a good sign if the alpha was not going to allow himself to be run off.

“Of course I will speak to him,” the Prince agreed. “If you’ll only point me the way once I’ve finished eating. We’d be done already but I over-estimated my cooking abilities and thought I could let your son sleep a bit more after I’d disturbed both your rest last night.”

“He burned the porridge black!” Stiles crowed. Stiles’ father shook his head at him but Stiles could see that he knew why Stiles was on his worst behavior.

“I despair of you,” he said. “Please excuse my son’s behavior. I’ve no idea what’s gotten into him.”

“Oh, he’s been most gracious. He was telling me about the economy of keeping hens for eggs instead of trying to fatten them up to eat.”

“Was he?” Stiles shrugged, trying not to grin. His father looked like he was also fighting to keep a straight face. “He does sometimes natter on about the strangest things.”

“I didn’t think he was nattering.” Stiles and his father’s eyebrows shot up to their hairlines. They both nodded and wrestled control of their expressions back from the shock. Well… hopefully this was either indicative of the man’s character or he would run off in horror sooner rather than later.

After breakfast, Stiles was left alone for a whole hour while the Prince apologized to Mr Posey for his horse running amok and got a room at the inn. The Prince’s reaction to his gross-out ramble had been promising. That did not mean that his understanding would last beyond the first or second irritation. Clearly he had at least some control over his temper, or at least lacked an instinct to violent rage. Both were good things. Pregnancy made a body prone to moods and fragile, a dangerous combination with an easily enraged alpha. The blacksmith certainly had lost both his mates to his temper while they were pregnant. Most of the town had felt sorry for the alpha, with two dead mates and two unborn children, but Stiles had felt more sympathy for his mates who were lying dead in the ground trying to carry a man’s child only for him to throw them across the room. Some alphas got the temper, others did not, and it was hard to know which was which until it was too late and someone had a black eye or broken bone. So Stiles was simply going to have to keep provoking the Prince until it seemed reasonable to assume that he would not end up with something broken.

Sooner rather than later, the Prince returned and asked Stiles to accompany him on a walk. “I’m sorry if I seem to be trying to monopolize your time but my family will want me to return within a few days, I’m certain. I feel we should try to get to know one another as best we can, so it seems less sudden.”

“When you try that proposal again?” Stiles asked with a grin. “I’m fine with getting out of my chores for a few days.”

“I hope that’s not the only reason you’re agreeing to spend time with me,” the Prince teased. He looked a little wounded despite his light-hearted tone.

“Well, I’m not certain that anything could make a few days seem longer that’s not something terrible…” Stiles teased. “Then again…” Instead of taking offense, the Prince laughed. It seemed genuine. They started out on the walk and Stiles managed to steer them out towards where he knew Heather had been helping in the fields. Seeing the alpha’s reaction to a bout of jealousy would be a good idea.

“So, Stiles, you’ve lived here your whole life?” the Prince asked as they strolled away from the house.

“Yes. Never been farther than the next town over.”

“Do you want to travel?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugged.

“There are lots of lovely places to see in the world. I think you’d enjoy it. Have you ever seen a picture of the sea?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “There was a painting in one of mama’s books. It looks beautiful.”

“It is beautiful,” the Prince agreed.

“If you say so, your highness,” Stiles agreed mildly.

“Call me Derek,” the Prince insisted. “There’s no need for you to use my titles instead of my name.”

“Derek,” Stiles echoed. Derek smiled at him. Stiles felt his heart constrict oddly. The expression was breath-taking. Then Derek glanced away and took a step forward. Stiles tripped forward with him and then the moment had passed.

“So, what do you like to do?” Derek asked him.

“I like to read.”

“Oh, your mother did teach you that, then?”

“Yes. We have four books!” Stiles was quite proud of that. Derek made a strange expression. It seemed to be half confusion and half echoed pride.

“I am certain they must be dear to you,” Derek managed to reply. Of course, he was a Prince. They probably had scads of books, loads of books, in a castle. “Your father said your mother had wished for you to be educated, did he not?”

“I don’t recall, but he must have because that’s true,” Stiles agreed. It had been one meal five weeks prior. He remembered only the feeling of being lost in the conversation and that the Duke, Derek’s uncle, had been uncannily observant.

“What did she manage to teach you?”

“I can read; I know my numbers and can add and subtract; that sort of thing,” Stiles explained.

“Useful education, then, things that would help you in life,” Derek replied. Stiles nodded. They were coming upon the fields that Heather was tending.

“Heather’s also taught me useful things that would help me in life. I’ve known her as long as I can remember. We’re really quite close.” Stiles waved. Heather had looked up and locked her gaze on him and Derek the moment he started speaking. Well, Stiles could not have planned that better himself. It certainly set the stage for jealousy. Derek had a mild expression and upon noticing Stiles’ gaze, smiled at him.

“She must have been a great comfort to you after the loss of your mother, having a close friend while grieving.” That certainly sounded calm and even-tempered. That was promising.

“She was.” That was certainly very much the truth. It was how Stiles knew that they could make each other happy if they mated. “I honestly don’t know how I would have survived without her.”

“I cannot imagine how painful it would be to lose a parent,” Derek murmured. “I was a wreck for quite some time after an assassination attempt that failed several years ago.”

“Oh? I thought Laura was your sister?”

“She is,” Derek chuckled. “Laura is Queen of Francia now, because of the war. My parents are still sovereign in Triskele, which will now pass to me or Cora, depending on circumstances then.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Stiles lied. He had no knowledge base to draw on for that sort of conversation but knowing that Derek’s parents were alive and Laura was his sister did answer the question that he had asked. “It must have been terrible, knowing that someone had tried to kill your parents.”

“It was fairly dreadful, but the woman was put to death for it. At least we have no fears of a repeat of the events.”

“That would be a relief,” Stiles agreed. Derek nodded. They continued along in amiable silence for a moment. Stiles realized that Derek had shown no signs of jealousy of Heather as a rival alpha and had even opened up to him about a vulnerability while most likely still in her hearing range. Perhaps Derek had not gotten the temper?

“Would it be impertinent for me to ask how your mother died?” Derek asked, breaking the silence. Stiles blinked up at him. That was how he thought to start conversation?

“It would,” he replied firmly. Derek looked a little surprised, but did not push, just nodding in response. Stiles let the silence drag out a moment. Derek made no attempt to continue the line of questioning. At least that had not tripped his temper either. Of course, Stiles had needed a moment to gather himself as well. His mother’s death had never been an easy topic of discussion for him. “There was… It’s hard for me to talk about. She liked to go on walks in the woods and she would take me with her. One day, we ran into some men. Normally that would hardly have been cause for notice, there were always people in the woods. But they were poachers or something and we startled them and they attacked her and ran off. She died from her wounds.”

“How horrible,” Derek murmured. He looked like he believed it. “Heather must have been even more necessary to you than I imagined. That would be such a terrible thing to happen and even worse to have to remember.”

“I try not to remember it.”

“I would not wish to remember such a horrible day either.”

“No. I have many more happy memories of my mother. I try to focus on those instead.”

“A wise decision,” Derek agreed. “I am sorry to have brought it up.”

“You couldn’t have known. Most omegas die during pregnancy or childbirth, after all,” Stiles shrugged. Derek looked a little uncomfortable as he nodded in agreement. “Let us change the subject to something less morbid: why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“Yes, of course,” Derek nodded. There was a pause. Stiles assumed he was gathering his thoughts. “Well, Mother’s an alpha, Father’s omega. I’ve got three uncles. You’ve met Peter, who is determinedly unmated. Steven and Robert are still in Triskele with my parents. They’re both mated as well. Mark and Adam are Steven’s sons. Robert has only Sarah, who’s the same age as Cora and Adam, probably close to your age. Mark’s older than me. We all lived together in the castle until this war with Francia.” Derek quieted, staring off into thin air.

“I imagine it must have been lovely, having so much family around you,” Stiles commented.

“Yes. It’s a little lonely now with only three family members around. Of course, we all write but it’s hard to keep up correspondence and it’s no substitute for being together.”

“I would imagine not,” Stiles agreed. He had never had the occasion to have to try to substitute letters for anyone’s presence. “But surely it is hard to be lonely in a castle. There are people everywhere, aren’t there?”

“Oh, there’s servants and guards everywhere, but it’s awkward. They always have chores to be doing, somewhere else to be. It’s not like being surrounded by family or even friends.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied. He had no idea how to reply to that.

“But I think you suggested a less depressing conversation and I’ve got plenty of amusing stories about my cousins. Would you rather hear about the time Mark snuck out and got dragged into the throne room in chains by a new guard because he got caught sneaking back in or the time—”

A woman’s stern voice cut Derek off. “I suggest you tell me about the time you snuck out with a storm rolling in…” Derek looked a little pale. Stiles turned to see both of Derek’s sisters and his uncle had come to fetch him. This situation had suddenly become painfully awkward.

“The council had already taken over a month because you kept dragging things out!” Derek protested. “I didn’t want to wait any longer and it was only cloudy when I left. Clouds are hardly a reason not to travel.”

“You must have gotten here in the middle of the night!” the Queen snapped.

“Soaked to the bone and banging on the door right after the thunder rolled,” Stiles added with relish. Derek looked askance at him. “I already told you I thought it was stupid of you to ride out in a storm. Why are you surprised?”

“Your pretty little omega makes a very lovely point,” Derek’s uncle said all too casually.

“He’s my mate!” Derek said exasperatedly. Stiles felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“I highly doubt even you managed to complete a mating ceremony in the middle of the night, during a storm,” the Princess sneered. “Don’t you remember what happened last time you decided the pretty face that caught your eye was your one true love?”

“To be entirely fair to Derek, the last time, the pretty face made the claim first,” his uncle pointed out. Derek’s little sister only shrugged in reply. “Additionally, I rather doubt that this one has the same temperament.”

“He doesn’t and I’m not mistaken this time,” Derek insisted. Stiles held back a sigh of resignation. His father had been right about that fairytale true mate theory. He would be insufferable about this. Stiles truly hated being wrong, it was insufferable.

Derek and Laura continued to argue back and forth about whether it had been necessary for Derek to leave into a storm in the middle of the night as Peter herded them towards the inn. Laura listed out all the possible ways it could have gone horribly wrong and ended in Derek’s death. Several of them were quite plausible and so very good arguments. Derek’s rebuttal was mostly that Stiles obviously would have otherwise thought that Derek had abandoned him and that was more important than his safety. Stiles stayed out of the conversation, wondering if there would be some way for him to slip off once they reached the inn or if he was going to have to listen to this until they both lost their voices. He was spared the decision by the fact that his father was waiting at the inn. His father aided Peter in herding them up to one of the rooms they had rented.

Peter was the one to interrupt the argument. “Well, Laura dear, as much as I agree with your arguments, we need to change topics now. He shouldn’t have ridden off at night, especially into a storm but he’s still alive and unharmed. Now, we need to return to the castle soon. Unlike Derek, you have pressing obligations. We need to discuss Derek’s return to the castle and now that Elder Stilinski has joined us…” he trailed off pointedly.

“Of course,” the Queen nodded, her cheeks flushing pink. “Forgive my ill manners, Elder Stilinski. I was concerned about my brother’s wellbeing.”

“I completely understand your position, your majesty. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“That’s very kind of you. Now, perhaps this line of questioning might seem a little less generous of me, but as my uncle pointed out, I do need to return to the castle tonight.”

“I will take no offense,” Stiles father assured her.

“Good,” she murmured. “Now, do you foresee any reason that your son should not be mated to Derek if he agrees to it?”

“No, my son has a good head on his shoulders. He wouldn’t make such a decision on a whim.”

“Does your family have any relevant health problems?”

“No,” his father shook his head firmly. “No mentally infirm aunts or uncles.”

“Any history of difficult omega pregnancies?” Derek’s uncle asked.

“None of that, either.”

“Peter!” Derek hissed. He looked horrified. Stiles had assumed that the pregnancy part was what Laura had meant in the first place.

“It’s relevant information, Derek. Maybe this isn’t the romantic part of courtship, but it’s potentially important for keeping your little omega alive.” Derek subsided. Stiles kept his amusement to himself.

“I would prefer my brother not to be away from the castle for too long. What is the shortest time you would accept as appropriate before Derek’s proposal?”

“I suppose it would depend on how much time that my son and Derek were spending together as opposed to apart, but certainly not before tomorrow evening, your majesty.”

“That’s a reasonable caveat,” the Queen conceded. “Then, little brother, I will expect you back with or without Stiles within the week, preferably sooner rather than later.”

“I understand,” Derek agreed. “I doubt I’ll be without.” Everyone turned to look at Stiles who smiled guilelessly back at them. He was not giving an answer yet. Derek might seem so far to be perfectly reasonable but Stiles needed to be surer on the matter. This could be the rest of his life, after all.

“Well, as I said, we do need to return to the castle,” the Queen said briskly. “It was lovely to see you again, Elder Stilinski.”

“It was an honor,” Stiles’ father replied.

“I think I’ll stay put, if that’s alright with you?” Derek’s uncle asked. The Queen looked less than amused. “I just thought that perhaps Derek might need some supervision?” Her expression cleared and she smirked.

“Yes, I quite agree. Now, Cora, are you coming?”

“I’m certainly not staying,” the Princess snapped. Derek flinched. The Queen stood and gestured her sister out of the room before her. After the door was closed and their footsteps had retreated, Derek’s uncle spoke.

“Let me apologize for Laura’s behavior,” he said.

“Like I said…” Stiles’ father began to reply.

“I was addressing that remark to your son, Elder Stilinski.”

“Thank you,” Stiles replied. Derek’s uncle slowly grinned.

“I think I like this one, Derek,” he said. “Call me Peter.”

“You can call me Stiles, Peter.”

“It’s always so nice to be offered a name, don’t you think?” Peter mused. Derek looked confused.

“If you’re trying to get my father to offer his, I doubt you’ll succeed.”

“Oh?”

“There are very few people who actually know his name. He has a thing about it.”

“My parents did not have to name me after some great-uncle that married in,” Stiles’ father grumbled. Stiles shrugged. Peter chuckled.

“I suppose I wouldn’t have any experience with that problem. My name is perfectly reasonable.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Stiles’ father sounded entirely too bitter.

“Well, that was a lovely conversation, but we need to be heading home to get dinner together,” Stiles stated quickly. He stood and pulled his father to his feet as well.

“Will I be able to see you later?” Derek asked anxiously. Stiles blinked for a moment. Was that the man’s flaw: he would smother Stiles?

“I suppose you and Peter might as well come to dinner,” he replied. “But give me an hour to get the food together.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed. “We wouldn’t want to be underfoot while you’re trying to keep the house running. We’ll set out in an hour.”

“So long as it isn’t an imposition,” Derek insisted.

“No, it’s not an imposition or I wouldn’t have offered,” Stiles replied. “Now I really do need to get going or we’ll be eating half-raw meat.”

“That would certainly be an interesting experience,” Peter commented.

“I’ll see you in an hour, Stiles,” Derek said. Stiles nodded in acknowledgement and pulled his father out of the room, heading for the door.

“Was that necessary?” Stiles demanded.

“What did I do?”

“You didn’t have to be rude to Peter. He is royalty.”

“I wasn’t…” Stiles fixed his father with a look. “Okay, I wasn’t thinking. But you were the one who blatantly pointed out that I wasn’t offering my name.”

“Yes, I said something out of turn. I’m still trying to figure out what Derek’s flaws are. You approved of that plan.”

“Yes, I did, but you didn’t need to drag me into it.”

“I was taking advantage of the situation that presented itself.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you back at the house. I have some errands to run.” Stiles’ father strode off in the opposite direction. Stiles just hoped that he would have burned through the anger before he got back and started towards his house. There would be at least three for dinner, conceding the possibility that his father would forget to be there, and he would need to have something on the table for them to eat.


	7. Stewed Carrots and Explanations

As Stiles had suspected, his father had neither arrived nor sent word when Derek and Peter arrived. The food was ready and hot. Stiles glanced out the door down the street as he beckoned the pair in, but his father was nowhere in sight.

“Did your father have to step out for a moment?” Peter asked.

“He had some errands to run. He’s a very busy man. I’m certain he wouldn’t want us to let the food get cold, though. Please, sit.” Derek and Peter both sank elegantly into the chairs at the table. Peter had somehow ended up in his father’s usual chair. Stiles did not mention it to him as he served up the venison and stewed carrots.

“This looks delicious,” Peter murmured. Stiles grinned.

“I’m not a half bad cook,” he replied.

“I trust this isn’t the first time you’ve made stewed carrots since that time you were telling me about this morning?” Derek asked.

“This morning?” Peter looked scandalized.

“He came here instead of the inn. Derek burned the porridge.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Peter smiled fondly at Derek, who just flushed and shook his head.

“Well, I couldn’t let you think that I was incompetent,” Stiles told Derek.

“I doubt you could ever give off that impression,” Derek replied with a smile. “And you’ve certainly proved your competence. The carrots are lovely.”

“Stupendous,” Peter corrected. “Just the right amount of honey to sweeten them.”

“I’m glad you like it. Dad sometimes complains that it’s too sweet, but I’ve always thought carrots taste better with a hint of sweet.”

“I’ve always thought so too. My sister says it’s just my sweet tooth, but the flavor just comes across better with some honey.”

“I don’t suppose I should interject that carrots are carrots, uncle?”

“There’s surely something wrong with your tongue,” Peter teased. Derek shook his head, frowning at his uncle. Stiles generously tried to hold back his smirk. Peter certainly had a point but there was no reason to be a brat.

“How about we change the subject?” Derek suggested. “I was telling Stiles earlier about the sea. Don’t you think he would enjoy a trip, uncle?”

“Is that how you’re deciding if your instincts are correct? His opinion on the ocean?”

“Don’t mock me!” Derek insisted. Stiles had not thought Peter’s tone was mocking, but Peter simply ducked his head in a silent apology. That was less interesting than the fact that a previous love of Derek’s had been brought up several times now, by all of his relatives. Stiles’ curiosity was greatly aroused.

“Can I ask?” Stiles asked once it was clear that neither Derek nor Peter would be quick to break the awkward silence. Derek winced. Peter nodded slowly.

“The question that could give you the answers you want is: What happened the first time Derek thought he found his mate? But it’s up to my nephew whether or not he wishes to answer you.” Stiles and Peter both looked to Derek for his response.

“I suppose it’s only fair to tell you. Everyone else knows.” Derek still sounded reluctant to continue speaking.

“So long as you don’t mind my knowing, I can weasel it out of someone else. You don’t have to tell me yourself if it’s difficult to speak of.” Stiles knew that this could be a prime moment to test Derek’s temper but for some reason, he felt that Derek was closer to tears than rage. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to push him to speak about someone he loved who had probably died.

“No…” Derek took a deep breath, bracing himself. “I’ll tell you myself. Who only knows how my sisters would embellish… You remember that I mentioned an assassination attempt several years ago?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded. It was when they had been speaking about his own mother on the walk. He had a sinking feeling that this first mate was dead but not because of an accident.

“The would-be assassin was Kate Argent. I first met her many years ago now, before I attained my majority. She had come with her father and brother to discuss a treaty with my parents, who were letting me sit in on the discussions as well as Laura. The mention of a mating to seal the treaty was discussed, which is fairly common to bring up but it’s not often anything comes of it. Because Chris Argent was already married with a child, my parents asked Kate if she felt drawn to me or Laura. Cora was still too young to ask about. I was blinded by Kate’s beauty, so when she said that she had barely been able to concentrate with me in the room, I thought she meant that we were mates. To be fair, my parents thought she did too.”

“That’s not the question she was answering, though, because it technically wasn’t what your parents had asked,” Stiles said quietly. He could already tell where this story was going. “So they start planning the mating ceremony. What happened to stop it?” Peter looked impressed by Stiles’ ability to guess the ending. Derek just looked sad.

“Well, I was too young to be mated right away, so the preparations had to wait for about a year. Kate stayed in Triskele while her father and brother went home to Francia. There was peace, no sign of duplicity. But then Laura stumbled upon Kate in a compromised position with one of the stable-hands while trying to flirt with one of the guards. Everyone was horrified. Kate flippantly announced that she had never thought we were mates. My parents turned her out and declared war. A few years ago, Kate snuck back in with her hair dyed dark and tried to burn the castle to the ground.”

“Well…” Stiles fell silent for a moment, wondering how to respond. He decided on blunt, “I certainly thought the story was going to be much more interesting than a stupid lie to solidify a peace treaty from the way Cora threw it in your face. Since you were still a child, shouldn’t your parents take the blame for not realizing Kate was lying?” Derek blinked at Stiles.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Derek looked legitimately taken aback by the reasoning and went quiet.

“My mentioning that to my sister is why I’m the one babysitting Laura,” Peter commented. “She did not appreciate my perspective.”

“I’d imagine not,” Stiles agreed. “By the by, I would love to meet this stable-hand. Surely even a woman facing a mating based on a lie would need a good incentive to risk a peace treaty when she’s living in the other castle.”

“He never looked very interesting to me,” Peter admitted. “And Kate didn’t seem to understand the potential consequences until it was too late. She was honestly very shocked by my sister’s reaction.”

“Then I wonder who gave her the plans to try to start a fire. Or was that why she failed: no forethought?”

“It was a fairly good plan and we just finished rebuilding the wing she did manage to set ablaze. I would imagine that it was her father or brother who actually came up with the plans. It was luck that we managed to contain the fire while it burned itself out.”

“At least luck was on your side. I hope enough that no one was injured too badly?” Stiles thought that was probably the appropriate inquiry.

“No, no one suffered any permanent injury,” Peter reassured him. “A couple of the guards and servants were sick from the smoke and a couple of those who were trying to contain the fire had small burns but everyone managed to make a full recovery. Luckily, no one was living in that wing at the time so it was nowhere near as devastating as it could have been.”

“Why didn’t Mom or Dad realize that Kate was lying? I was fifteen,” Derek interrupted. Stiles and Peter both startled. Stiles had nearly forgotten Derek was sitting beside him and certainly had not expected Derek to rejoin the conversation with that question.

“Kate never lied outright and she didn’t feel guilty about misleading everyone so there was nothing to pick up on,” Peter replied with a shrug. “Do you finally believe me that she had all of us fooled?” Derek gave Peter an exasperated look. Then the door opened. Stiles turned to ascertain that it was his father returning. Peter and Derek both startled, making small noises of surprise. It was his father.

“There you are!” Stiles said brightly, jumping up to serve his father. “Come sit down, I’ll get you a plate.”

“No, I was fed at Tara’s. She insisted.”

“Well, still come join us,” Stiles entreated. His father was still standing awkwardly just inside the door. He turned his head to take in the view, wondering what was wrong. Oh! Peter was in his seat. That would explain the problem. “Peter and Derek were telling me about all the places they’ve traveled to.” Hopefully his father would come sit down momentarily. This was awkward.

“I don’t believe we’d gotten to all of them yet,” Peter countered. A sly grin pulled at his lips and he feigned an undertone to Stiles’ father, “I think my nephew is either bragging or attempting a roundabout bribe.” Stiles held back his giggles. His father finally took a step further into the room.

“Stiles is interested in the topic!” Derek protested. “I was trying to make polite conversation.”

“Polite conversation by bringing up all the places you’ve been able to go because you’re a prince,” Stiles teased.

“Now, don’t be rude, Stiles. I’m sure the poor man’s had a devil of a time trying to keep you engaged in a topic for more than a moment,” his father reprimanded. Seeing as he also finally took the last empty chair at the table, Stiles was too relieved to be too irritated by the insult.

“On the contrary, your son has been a wonderful host and an excellent cook,” Peter intervened.

“My uncle’s quite right. Stiles has been perfectly attentive,” Derek agreed.

“I’m glad he’s been behaving well.”

“Yes,” Peter nodded. “Derek, weren’t you telling Stiles about your visit to our cousin, Harper, in the Aipradel Empire.”

“Yes, I was. As I was telling Stiles, the Aipradel Empire is a desert kingdom in the east, Elder Stilinski. The land is very flat, you can see for miles and miles in every direction. The dirt is either extremely fertile or completely arid. There are places where they had lovely plants and crops and then there were large stretches of bare ground with a few plants unlike anything they have here that can store water.”

“Plants that store water?” Stiles felt as surprised as his father sounded.

“I can barely fathom it myself,” Stiles agreed.

“Yes,” Derek agreed. “Very unlike anything we have here.”

Derek spent the next couple hours telling Stiles and his father about the Aipradel Empire, the seaside palaces, the Jost Peaks Mountains that were so tall that the snow never melted, and the Tyraq Jungle which was a forest singularly unlike the one that they knew. Stiles wanted to see the places for himself. Derek seemed to have experienced the wonder of being able to travel and see other places as a singular inconvenience and Peter was not much better at answering all of Stiles’ questions about how plants and animals and weather could be so changeable in different places. He had only ever experienced his little village and it was so unchangeable. The weather patterns rarely varied. The plants were all the same. The animal population was equally lacking in diversity.

Derek also talked about the castles and palaces and the sprawling cities that surrounded each one. There were more people and buildings in one place than Stiles could fathom, to hear Derek’s description and Peter thought that Derek was under-estimating the numbers. It was incomprehensible. Derek and Peter did not seem to have any understanding of how impressive the idea of so many people settling together and living in their neighbor’s pocket was. At least Stiles’ father looked sufficiently impressed and shocked by Derek’s stories.


	8. Unusual Sleeping Habits

As it was nearing time for Stiles to start making supper, his father was summoned to mediate the latest dispute over the goat that the Alberts and the Birds had been arguing over for the past three years. At this point, no one was entirely certain who was truly the proper owner of the goat. Some agreed with the Alberts and some agreed with the Birds. As the goat got by just fine, wandering around the village, it was mostly immaterial except for when the goat decided to knock over a fence or help himself to someone’s vegetable garden. So rather than both families claiming the goat, it had become both families denying ownership of the goat and pointing the responsibility at the other family.

As Stiles’ father left, Peter took the opportunity to herd Derek back towards the inn, insisting that they would otherwise overstay their welcome.

“We wouldn’t want to scare your pretty little omega off by hovering overmuch,” Peter insisted. Derek looked less than pleased but he obediently moved towards the door.

“Perhaps we could take a stroll after supper?” Derek suggested. “Peter or your father could accompany us if it’s too late to appear appropriate.”

“I’ll mention it to my father,” Stiles agreed.

“We’ll leave you to your supper preparations, Stiles,” Peter said with a smile. “See you soon.”

“This evening,” Derek pleaded.

“I’ll ask,” Stiles promised. “It will be dark after supper and that would be too late to stroll around unchaperoned. My father is well-respected in the village.”

“And of course we would not want to do anything to call his honor into question,” Peter agreed. “Now, Derek, let us go back to the inn and give Stiles some privacy to do his chores. I’m certain he doesn’t need to be bothering about you being underfoot.”

“I am leaving,” Derek insisted, even as he darted back towards Stiles and caught Stiles’ chin in one hand while he pecked a chaste kiss on the opposite cheek. Stiles was too surprised to even react.

“Derek!” Peter snapped. But now Derek was all perfect manners, saying farewell and walking out the door.

“Did that just happen?” Stiles asked.

Peter nodded. “He’s always been impulsive.”

“Is that his flaw?”

“For the most part,” Peter nodded, seeming to understand the question. “His trusting nature will only be a flaw if my sister doesn’t pass him over in favor of my younger niece.”

“Although considered a virtue, I can see how trusting easily could be dangerous for someone in a position of such power,” Stiles agreed. “See you later or tomorrow, Peter.”

“Stiles,” Peter bowed slightly as he backed out the door and closed it behind himself in a fluid motion. Stiles envied the man’s grace.

Stiles tidied up the dishes from dinner and began preparing supper. His father would certainly be back for the evening meal, because Stiles knew that his father had to be as interested in Stiles’ opinion of Derek as Stiles was in his father’s.

As Stiles was cooking, he thought over what he knew of the alpha. Derek had taken the blame for the misunderstanding with the Argents regarding the betrothal, despite the fact he had not yet been of-age. That sort of responsibility and guilt, when it had led to years of war, surely indicated some sort of endurance of character. He seemed to not be prone to temper, violence or jealousy. Derek obviously was prone to acting without fully considering the consequences: riding out in the middle of the night, not stabling his horse in the storm, that sudden kiss farewell, deciding on a mate after a single conversation… But those things had all seemed to be innocently meant. Derek had also been perfectly willing to make up for the inconvenience: at least, he had tried to prepare breakfast so Stiles could sleep a little longer. Stiles would have to remember to ask his father how Derek had handled the matter of his horse trampling the Posey farm. Derek certainly would never want for money or security, being a prince. With the war ended so decidedly in the Hales’ favor, it was unlikely that his being a prince would put Stiles in any danger itself. Additionally, they would likely have easy access to plenty of very skilled doctors and midwifes for any health issues that could ever arise.

Well, if his father had not seen any reason to mistrust Derek, Stiles had not found one either. So long as that remained unchanged until whenever Derek asked Stiles to mate with him, Stiles was beginning to think that leaving with him would be a good idea. Stiles reapplied himself to the task at hand, hoping that his father would return soon so that they could discuss the matter together. Although it was not as soon as Stiles might have hoped, his father did return before the food scorched from Stiles’ attempts to keep it warm. They spoke of the matter of the goat while they were eating, who had this time eaten carrots out of several gardens before being corralled and how there had been a scene and Mr. Albert and Mr. Bird had nearly come to blows over their insistence that the other was impugning their honor. After they finished supper, Stiles cleared away the dishes and his father adopted a serious expression.

“We do need to discuss the issue of this Prince, Stiles,” he stated a little too calmly. Stiles nodded and made an agreeing noise. “He will likely propose the day after tomorrow.”

“I did notice that,” Stiles agreed.

“Have you formed an opinion of the man yet?” his father looked amused at himself.

“He seems harmless enough, unless you have noticed something that I did not?” Stiles paused. “How did he treat Mr. Posey?”

“The Prince seemed very sincere with his remorse and apologies. He gave the man some money to pay for the lost crops, and judging by Tyler’s reaction, it was an ample sum.”

“Then, it seems to me that he is sometimes impulsive, but perfectly willing to make amends for any inconvenience caused, and shows no immediate signs of violence, temper, jealousy, or wanting to keep me locked in a room for the rest of my life.”

“Those would be the important things to find out. I take it that he did not react to your obnoxious behavior?”

“No, he did not. Of course, there is the possibility that he was merely concealing his instinctual reaction, but I still have another day to make up my mind before I have to worry about having it made up.”

“Did he make plans for the morning?”

“Oh! He said something about a walk after supper tonight. I told him I’d have to ask you about it. I’d almost completely forgotten.”

“You are absolutely not going out walking with some strange alpha after dark!” his father insisted. “I will give that man a piece of my mind, royalty or not!” Stiles just kept quiet, let his father realize that the outburst had no need for escalation on his own. It only took a short moment. “I’ll inform him of the impropriety of such a request once we’ve finished our discussion.”

“That would probably be best,” he agreed. “So, what is your impression of Derek, Father?”

“He does seem to be a good man, a reasonable alpha. I don’t think he would hurt you. He is a prince, so you would never have to worry about money or food or having a roof over your head. So long as you like him, there’s no reason to turn down his proposal.”

“Those were my thoughts as well,” Stiles agreed. His father nodded firmly.

“Very well. I will go inform the Prince that you will not be walking with him after dark, chaperoned or not. I’ll return shortly.” Stiles nodded in agreement. Although the conversation promised to be most amusing, it would be best if he did not accompany his father just to eavesdrop. Instead, Stiles puttered about getting ready for bed while awaiting his father’s return.

The idea of permanently leaving his father began to sink in for the first time. Stiles had always known that he would eventually leave his father’s house. There was no reason for him not to expect to be mated eventually, and then he would live with his mate rather than his father. But he had expected to mate someone else in the village; or at the furthest someone in the nearest town. Instead, he was now anticipating a proposal from a prince, who would be taking him all the way to the castle to live. His father would not be joining them. Just having a conversation with his father would be a hassle, involving hours of travel or the use of letters and messengers. That part would be so difficult. Oddly enough, it did not entice Stiles to reconsider his tentative decision to accept Derek’s proposal. Despite his realization that he would be very much separated from his father and everyone he knew; it did not seem to be a good enough reason to turn Derek down. That struck Stiles as being a little strange, but not strange enough to worry about overmuch as his father walked back into the house.

“How did he take the news?”

Stiles’ father sounded surprised, “Very well, actually. The Prince apologized for any offense he might have caused and asked if another morning walk after breakfast would be more acceptable and insisted that we both had to join him and his uncle at the inn for dinner tomorrow to repay our hospitality from today.” He himself started puttering about, getting ready for bed: splashing water on his face and changing into nightclothes.

“Well, that sounds nice. You told him that the morning walk was fine, I assume?”

“Of course I did. I believe he’ll be here about midmorning, plenty of time for you to clear the breakfast things away.”

“That’s convenient,” Stiles agreed. His father nodded and herded him towards the bed.

“Yes, and it is time to go to sleep. Unlike some people, I still have to attend to my usual duties in the morning and cannot sleep the day away.” Stiles giggled, but easily acceded to his father’s request, banking the fire, blowing out the candles, and getting into bed. His father fell immediately asleep. Stiles tossed and turned until he grabbed the pillow on the far edge of the bed, hoping that having more support under his head might help him settle down and sleep. Stiles had forgotten that it was the pillow that Derek had slept on the night before but he was quickly reminded with the wave of scent released as he put his own head down. The scent of the alpha settled Stiles down. He was just coherent enough to register it as very unusual that the scent of a near-stranger’s soap was calming to him as he fell asleep.

The following morning, his father had to drag him by the wrists out of bed to get Stiles to wake up. It was more than a little disorienting. If Stiles was not hurt, sick, or bleeding, he woke easily and early. Typically his father was still sleeping and Stiles had to carefully crawl around him to get up and get breakfast started. Stiles finally blinked awake, sitting on the ground next to the bed and his father bent down, looking carefully at his face.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I think so,” Stiles agreed.

“If you’re sick, I can tell the Prince and you can just get back in bed, son,” his dad offered.

“I don’t think I’m sick,” Stiles responded. “I… I don’t know why I couldn’t wake up but I feel fine now.” Stiles wondered if it was related to how hard it had been for him to sleep until he had put his head on the pillow with Derek’s scent on it, but he did not think that telling his father that would help anything.

“You aren’t just saying that?”

“No, I am not just saying that,” Stiles insisted. His father nodded, pulling him gently to his feet.

“Okay, I’ll go draw some water for the day if you’re fine starting the porridge by yourself?” Though it should have been a statement, his father sounded uncertain enough that it came out as a question. Stiles nodded firmly and pushed his father towards the door.

“I’ve done this for years. I can manage the porridge.” Stiles was certain of that at least. His father picked up the bucket by the door and headed out to the water pump, finally reassured.

Stiles quickly put a pair of trousers on and a fresh shirt. Then he hurriedly started on the morning porridge. Although he was certain that he had not been lying in insisting to his father that he was not ill, Stiles knew that there was definitely something strange going on. First he had been unable to fall asleep until he smelled Derek’s scent on the pillow. Then he had immediately fallen fast asleep, so deeply he could not even recall dreaming, once he had smelled Derek’s scent. Finally, his father had needed to drag him out of bed to wake him up. That was all unusual behavior and Stiles was a little concerned by it. The situation would have been more distressing if Stiles had not been anticipating Derek proposing, but it was still concerning that his sleep habits could be changed based on the presence or absence of someone’s scent in a way that was so beyond his control.

Luckily, by the time his father returned with the water, the porridge was nearly ready and he smiled brightly, certain that his son was back to normal. Stiles was less certain but he smiled back, not wanting to worry his father any further. They ate their breakfast in a companionable quiet. Stiles was still worrying about his new sleeping habits and his father was typically taciturn while he was eating if they were not in company.

After breakfast, Stiles’ father left to attend to the village. Stiles washed up the breakfast dishes, put on his boots, and then sank into a chair to fret while waiting for Derek to arrive. For a brief instant, Stiles considered asking Derek himself about the issue, but he quickly dismissed that idea. It would likely come across as a sort of veiled invitation of some sort, not as a legitimate concern. His father would not be pleased by the gossip that would likely ensue from Stiles either attempting to have the conversation privately or the conversation being overheard. Stiles had only gotten to the point of tugging at his hair in distress before there was a knock on the door. Stiles hurriedly pulled himself together and crossed the room to open the door. As anticipated, it was Derek. Stiles smiled invitingly and closed the door behind him, but Derek did not mirror the expression. He was frowning.

“Are you alright?” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” Stiles replied. Derek did not believe him.

“You just… you smelled distressed, Stiles. Is anything wrong?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. I just overslept this morning,” Stiles replied. Derek looked like he still did not entirely believe him, but he stopped asking.

“Well, then a walk should help you wake up.” Derek gently placed a hand on Stiles’ lower back and ushered him away from the door. Stiles only leaned into the touch for a moment before straightening up and leading the way down the path. Derek’s hand dropped back to his side as they walked. There was a long moment of awkward silence. Derek obviously did not want to pry but was still too curious about Stiles’ mood to come up with another topic of conversation and Stiles was too distracted to find something else to talk about.

“I was thinking about how far I’m going to be from my father,” Stiles finally said. He had been briefly sad about it the night before.

“Oh, yes, the castle has to be further than you would have been expecting to go,” Derek agreed. “He could come with us, if that would be agreeable.”

“I don’t think he would want to leave here. I’ll acclimate. We can write and I can visit or he can visit occasionally. I was just thinking about how strange it will be to be so far from him.”

“Of course,” Derek nodded. “He is your family. You love him. Being parted from your family is never easy, even if you’re freely making the decision.” Derek reached out and tangled his fingers with Stiles’. Stiles smiled at him.

“Distract me?”

“Would telling you about the castle be distracting enough?”

“I think that would do.”

Derek told Stiles about the bustle of people, how all the servants were always running here and there to get the laundry washed, and the food served, and the floors swept, and all the other little chores required to keep a house running on a scale far larger than anything Stiles had ever been exposed to. He also talked about tutors and rooms full of books and learning languages, which sounded absolutely wonderful to Stiles. Derek promised that Stiles would be able to learn about anything he was interested in and that he would have a tutor to teach him the basic etiquette, or how things were done in the castle. Apparently there were different kinds of spoons and forks for different kinds of foods and he would have to learn some dances for the celebrations and clothes had to be chosen very carefully. Stiles would have his own private bedchamber, with a bed and a table and chairs and fireplace all to himself, which would be near to Derek’s bedchamber. Stiles almost asked whether they would continue to have separate beds after they were mated, but there were too many people in earshot that could take that question the wrong way. Instead he just assured Derek that it sounded lovely, very luxurious, as they headed towards the inn to meet Peter and Stiles’ father for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I have lost a lot of motivation for this story. I was planning to make this fairly long and involve some court intrigue after Stiles' arrival, but I cannot see myself actually managing to write that all out. Instead of leaving this unfinished indefinitely in the hopes of recovering my motivation, I'm just going to wrap the Stiles-Derek courtship main plot and give it an ending before I lose all interest.
> 
> So next week's chapter will be the end of this courtship period. The following chapter 10 will be focused around Derek's proposal and the immediate aftermath. The last chapter will wrap any loose threads and will probably involve several time skips and summaries. I have not started writing chapter 11 as of writing this note but I have a general outline in my head that should supply a reasonably satisfying ending: whether or not Stiles and Derek get mated following the proposal, some indication of how all of that happens, who Stiles' mother was/her death, re-address the werewolf heat. If there are any other things you would like to see addressed, leave a comment. I really do welcome polite suggestions.


	9. A Game of Cards

Stiles and Derek arrived back at the inn after their midmorning walk to find Peter waiting in the dining room for them. Stiles’ father was nowhere in sight yet. Peter stood to greet them, smiling and wrapping Derek in a brief hug.

“Good morning,” Peter said warmly in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles smiled back at him, “Morning, Peter.”

“Did you two have a refreshing walk?”

“Yes, it was lovely. Derek has been telling me about living in the castle. Will I truly have my own chambers all to myself?”

Peter chuckled. “Yes, you will. And after the mating ceremony, you’ll have adjoining chambers with Derek, but you’ll still have your own space all to yourself when you want it.” Stiles could have kissed the man for offering up the explanation so readily. Peter seemed to understand, a knowing expression in his eyes. Derek was blushing a little.

“I confess that I never thought about how luxurious it is for every member of a family to have at least one room all to themselves,” he said. “I feel a little foolish. It seems like an obvious thought to consider.”

“You were raised to it, so there’s no reason to marvel at it seeming normal,” Peter countered. Derek silently conceded the point with a nod of his head and a quirk of his eyebrows. Stiles felt a smile tug at his lips at recognizing the meaning in the shape. The creak of the front door opening drew his attention and his father was silhouetted against the sunlight in the doorway. Stiles stood to greet his father.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

“Productive,” his father answered succinctly as he got settled at the table. “Did you have a nice walk?”

“We did,” Stiles nodded.

“Good morning,” his father addressed Derek and Peter, who both echoed the sentiment.

Once everyone had appropriately asked after everyone else and the general niceties were dispensed with, Arthur the innkeeper came to ask about drink and food. Derek, Peter, and Stiles’ father were all having wine with their meal. Stiles asked for ale instead. Arthur nodded agreeably and made no fuss about the request.

“My mate made a lovely roast duck and we have some carrots and some apple preserves for the bread,” the blond innkeeper announced. Everyone nodded. It sounded like a lovely meal. “Well, then I’ll tell Merls to make four plates. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“What sort of name is Merls?” Peter wondered absently. Derek looked a little exasperated, as though he had heard this question several times over already.

“It’s a nickname. Arthur’s mate is named after the lady-hawk, a Merlin,” Stiles’ father explained.

“That makes at least a little more sense.” Peter looked satisfied by his answer.

“It would make more sense if he was a lady or his family had anything to do with hunting,” Arthur said loudly and teasingly as he sat the plates down on the table.

“Stop mocking my mother!” Merlin called out from the kitchen. “I’ll tell her you’re being a cabbage head and then see how many vegetables she sells you!”

“You live here too, you idiot,” Arthur pointed out. There was a distinctly sullen silence from the kitchen. “I suppose I better go appease my mate before he starts sulking in truth. Enjoy your dinner.” Arthur disappeared into the kitchen. Peter and Stiles both watched him go in amusement.

“That’s obviously a love match,” Peter murmured.

“Yes, Arthur dotes on Merlin as much as Merlin dotes on him,” Stiles agreed. After a moment, they turned to see Derek cornered by Stiles’ father.

“I really do think that you should explain to me exactly how you’re planning on providing for my son. I have no doubts that you are capable but I want to be certain that you’ve thoroughly considered the issue.” Derek was silently begging for help with his eyes but Peter just smiled mildly back at his nephew.

“Father does have a point,” Stiles murmured. Derek finally managed to open his mouth and attempt a reply.

“While Derek and your father are occupied with that discussion, I did have a small matter to bring up with you,” Peter said quietly.

“What is it?”

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Derek believes that you are his True Mate. As I doubt anyone else would ask so bluntly, but I think it’s important that someone know whether you agree with him before he proposes, I’m asking. Do you believe Derek is your True Mate?”

Stiles only deliberated a moment before giving an answer as blunt as the question. “I don’t believe in True Mates, Peter. I’d only heard of it in fairy stories, and honestly, I still think it sounds like a bedtime story.”

“That’s your prerogative,” Peter shrugged, spearing a bite of carrots. “The problem would have been if your answer was that you did believe in them but thought it wasn’t Derek.” Peter and Stiles both fell silent in favor of eating their meals before the food cooled. After the inauspicious start, Derek did seem to be handling his conversation well enough, Stiles noted. Derek was answering thoroughly and in a normal tone and pace. Of course, most of the information boiled down to: I live in a castle and have a lot of money and we’ll be the ones who get to eat if there’s a food shortage. The rest of the information was about the people Derek had already briefly mentioned that would be educating Stiles about castle behavior and on history and other such matters if he chose to pursue them. Stiles was already decided on whether he would be reading everything in the royal library and getting information out of everyone willing to part with it: he certainly was doing that.

After his father had finally finished interrogating Derek, and Derek was finally eating his meal despite the fact his food had long since cooled, Peter suggested that Stiles stay at the inn for an hour or two and play cards with he and Derek. Given that it was the middle of the day and Peter was a perfectly respectable chaperone, when Stiles nodded enthusiastically, his father gave his consent.

“You’ll have to come home in time to finish up all your chores, but there’s no reason for you not to amuse yourself for a bit,” he reasoned. “Do try to get home before suppertime. Peter, if you and Derek could walk him back if it’s started to get late? It’s very unusual for there to be any actual danger but I don’t like Stiles wandering about alone once it’s getting dark.”

“Of course, we’ll walk him safely back. And I’ll try to get him home before it starts getting dark,” Peter promised. Stiles’ father smiled, ruffled his hair, and left the inn. Stiles followed Derek and Peter upstairs to their rooms.

They settled into the same room that Laura had brought them to for the conversation with Stiles’ father. Peter and Stiles dragged the chairs and table into a more convenient arrangement for playing cards while Derek fetched the deck from Peter’s bags. Although Stiles and his father owned a deck of playing cards and knew a couple games, Derek and Peter spent the afternoon teaching Stiles the games that were popular at court. Stiles usually picked up enough of the basic rules of play to not lose embarrassingly by the third or fourth round. One of the games that Peter knew but Derek was less familiar with, Stiles seemed to remember his mother having taught him. Peter’s eyes narrowed when Stiles played a hand that he had not yet described to him in something more than simple confusion but not outright suspicion either.

Peter also told Stiles about another game that was popular at court: calling it chess. Apparently there were carved figures that moved about on a board of squares. If a figure belonging to one player landed on a figure belonging to the other player, then the figure was moved off the board. The player who got the other player’s designated figure in a position to be landed on and moved off the board first was the winner. It certainly did sound like an interesting game of strategy, Stiles agreed. Peter apologized for not having thought to bring the board and figures with him and promised to teach Stiles when they returned to the castle.

The afternoon sun began to sink in the sky and the light changed drastically, alerting all three of them to the fact that Stiles needed to be heading back to his house before Peter’s promise of sundown. They stacked the cards back up and went back downstairs. Peter briefly spoke with Arthur about having supper ready soon after they returned for an early evening and they all set out towards Stiles’ house. Derek tucked Stiles under his arm, with Peter walking easily on Stiles’ other side.

“Thank you for teaching me all those different games,” Stiles murmured sleepily, turning his face into Derek’s chest.

“Of course,” Peter agreed quietly. They walked a few more paces before Derek broke the silence.

“Are you certain that you’re feeling alright, Stiles? You said you overslept this morning and now you seem tired again, despite having only sat and played cards all afternoon.”

“I’m not sick,” Stiles insisted, without thinking through the answer. Even after he considered the words he had spoken, he could not find any desire to retract them. Whatever strange reaction he was having to Derek’s scent becoming associated with sleep, it was not an illness.

“Perhaps give Stiles a little more air,” Peter suggested. He all too casually reached out and drew Stiles out of the protective embrace of Derek’s arm. Stiles took an instinctively deeper breath but got only a bit of Derek’s scent in it. He felt instantly less languid and more alert. “It seems I was correct. There’s no need to worry about Stiles, Derek. He’ll feel better once the bond’s settled. It happens sometimes: the partial, fledgling bond conveys such comfort and safety through some sensory input that an omega basically turns into melting butter.”

“Oh, yes, of course, I’ve heard of that,” Derek agreed. He looked and sounded much relieved, and so obviously did have some recollection of this phenomena. Stiles was also greatly relieved, that this was a normal and reasonable thing and would go away without him being too greatly inconvenienced.

“You’ll appreciate it on the carriage ride,” Peter whispered to Stiles. “It’s hard to sleep in a carriage until you’ve gotten very used to riding in them.”

“Peter, don’t put that sort of pressure on him,” Derek chided before Stiles could make any reply. He startled a little, not having realized that Derek could hear his uncle. Peter made a small noise of displeasure.

“Are you taking Stiles on another walk in the morning?”

“Hint taken,” Derek conceded. “Stiles would you like to go on a walk in the morning?”

“That would be lovely,” Stiles agreed. “After breakfast, around midmorning again?”

“That sounds good to me,” Derek nodded.

Derek and Peter continued to flank Stiles on either side as they walked him the rest of the way to his door but Stiles carefully kept just slightly closer to Peter than Derek. Even though it seemed that only very close proximity to Derek’s scent would cause the reaction, Stiles did not want to risk falling asleep while walking down the street. Peter assured him that the bond would settle enough that it would no longer have that effect within two months at the most, more likely only a few more weeks of this sort of frequent contact. Stiles was very grateful for the reassurance that this would not only occur without any inconvenience but also in a relatively prompt time frame.

Peter easily turned to go once Stiles had reached the front stoop. Derek sort of drifted after Stiles, still following in step. When Peter grabbed his arm, Derek leaned forward and kissed Stiles on the cheek. Stiles wondered if it was for the same reason he had done it the day before or if it was to cover the fact he was following Stiles like an imprinted duckling. He did not ask. Stiles simply smiled at both of them, bade them goodnight, and went into his house. He heard Peter chiding Derek for the overfamiliarity of kissing Stiles in the street as he shut the door behind him.

For once, Stiles father was home in the early evening, whittling absently on a bit of wood. “How was your afternoon?”

“It was very pleasant. Peter encouraged Derek to teach me the card games that are popular at court.”

“That’s wise,” his father mused. “You would want to know how to play them if you accept his suit, so teaching you now removes a reason for refusal.”

“A petty reason,” Stiles pointed out. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I’ve got a rabbit skinned in the pot. Petty reason or not, it is still a reason to hesitate in agreeing. Peter obviously approves of this match, the way he invited you to stay and thought to teach you some games.”

“He also offered up an explanation of what the living arrangements would be at the castle before and after the mating ceremony. He asked about my opinion on True Mates. He talked a little about bonding, nothing inappropriate, just the common time for a bond to settle in their family.”

“That is at least one family member who approves and I think that your Prince’s sisters might disapprove of everyone who did not think Derek was somehow beneath them. Not to speak treason, but there was an outright hostility towards him and his ability to make decisions. Are you certain there’s not a reason they believe that?”

“Derek explained it to me. Their whole family really believes in the whole True Mate thing. He was betrothed to the Princess Katherine by his parents because they thought she said that she believed Derek was her True Mate. She had never said anything of the sort, but there was a misunderstanding. She was perfectly willing to mate with Derek but then she was flirting with one of the guards or stablehands and Derek’s family was horrified. They turned her out and declared war for her deceiving them and Derek took the blame for believing her. He was fifteen when they were betrothed.”

“That’s ridiculous,” his father scoffed. “Are you certain you want to mate into this family?”

“I think I’m starting to really like Derek,” Stiles admitted.

“So now you do have an opinion?”

“I definitely have an opinion. If you still approve, I’m going to accept when he asks.”

“Of course you have my blessing. I’m glad you like him. He does seem to be a good man, a reliable alpha, and especially after his competent answers to my inquiries at dinner today, I foresee no reason to worry for your welfare in his position.”

“He is a practical option.” Stiles had always fully understood that. He knew why his father was glad that he had formed a positive opinion of Derek. Honestly, so long as he did not suspect that Derek would hurt him, a lack of strong opinion towards the man was not a good reason to refuse a prince when the war had just been decisively won.

Stiles and his father had a lovely dinner of rabbit stew, talking a little about the card games and castle and the village. Stiles informed his father that Derek would be coming by about midmorning for another walk. After supper, Stiles was put to bed early, because his father insisted that he did not need to oversleep when he was likely to be proposed to. Stiles did not argue with that. He simply put his nose into the pillow that still somewhat smelled of Derek and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of the posting of this chapter, I've finished chapter 10 (which includes Derek's proposal up to Stiles leaving for the castle with him) and I'm working on the final chapter. I've gotten requests for what happens to the Sheriff, why Derek's more invested in the bond, and Claudia's backstory. I am also planning to include at least a cameo of Lydia, who of course managed to keep her head despite having been Allison's bosom friend during the war, a revisit of the heat concept, and the mating ceremony. If there's anything else that someone wants me to answer or include, feel free to make a request. :)


	10. A Proposal

In the morning, Stiles woke up before his father, as he was accustomed to doing. Stiles crawled out of bed and started making porridge for breakfast. As the scent of porridge began to fill the room, his father roused himself and rolled out of bed. They were both quiet as they ate, still waking up. Stiles reminded his father that Derek was going to be showing up to take him on a walk. When, after they were both fully dressed, his father sat back down at the table, Stiles knew that it was because Derek could be proposing any time now. Stiles rather thought that it would likely be a little later, since Derek had asked for a walk and surely would not be proposing in the street, but there was no need to argue with his father on the matter.

Derek once again showed up after Stiles had already finished clearing the breakfast dishes and put on his boots. This time, as Stiles’ father had not left, he was the one to answer the door. There was the typical exchange of pleasantries while Stiles headed towards the door himself.

“Elder Stilinski, may I speak to Stiles privately?” Derek asked. Apparently he was proposing now. Stiles stopped moving.

His father nodded and began edging out the door. “I’ll be around back, chopping some firewood,” he muttered as he disappeared through the door. Derek stepped through the doorway into the house and closed it behind him.

“I thought perhaps we could go on our walk after our conversation?”

“Of course,” Stiles agreed, giving Derek the confirmation he seemed to be seeking. “What is it that you wanted to discuss?” Of course, they both knew the answer already but Stiles well knew that asking for a topic spared everyone a lot of awkward and fumbling attempts to broach the topic.

Derek gave him a small smile and took a deep breath before he spoke. “I know that we’ve only known each other a few weeks but I think I am not mistaken that you are as certain as I am. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Stiles, will you do me the honor of being mated with me?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered simply. Derek grinned broadly. Suddenly Stiles found himself spinning around with his feet dangling a bit off the ground. He just clutched at Derek’s shoulders and let himself be carried away on Derek’s euphoria. As his feet brushed the floor again, both Stiles and Derek turned their heads and suddenly they were kissing. Stiles did not feel the sparks people had told him about. Instead, he felt a profound sense of peace and rightness. His father, opening the door, did not experience the same sensation at all.

“Do unhand my son! He may have agreed to mate with you but you aren’t mated yet!” It was like being doused with a bucket of ice cold well water. Derek startled as well and unhanded Stiles as quickly as possible without causing him to fall over. Stiles was rather amused.

“I apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me,” Derek said, very sincerely. “I had no intention of dishonoring you or Stiles, Elder Stilinski.” Stiles added a very solemn and emphatic nod of his head. His father’s mouth twitched at the corner.

“How about the two of you go on that walk you had planned now. Surely you will manage to control your emotions in the middle of the street, your highness,” he suggested. Derek took Stiles’ hand and quickly led them out into the street.

“Yes, of course, a walk sounds lovely,” he agreed barely coherently as he led their hasty retreat. Stiles generously restricted his amusement to only a wide smile. Derek flushed, his ears turning faintly pink. Their hands stayed joined, fingers tangled together, as they strolled down the street. Now that Derek felt as though he had escaped from the situation, they moved at an unhurried pace.

As they wandered down the road, Peter came into view still too far to call out to but walking in their direction. He did not seem to be in a rush either. They eventually met roughly in the middle and stepped out of the way of the neighbors walking by.

“Did you get a chance to speak to Stiles?” Peter asked casually.

“I accepted,” Stiles answered for Derek. That conveyed all of the desired information in a succinct manner.

Peter smiled. “Was that a surprise?” he teased. “I suppose I should send the messenger back with that information.”

“Messenger?” Stiles asked.

“Laura wanted to check in on Derek, and the situation,” Peter explained. Stiles nodded. That did make sense. Surely Derek did have responsibilities.

“It’s only been two days since she last saw me!” Derek grumbled.

Peter hummed noncommittally in acknowledgment. “We probably ought to also let my dear niece know when to expect us. As it is, we won’t be able to leave until tomorrow morning unless we wish to arrive in the middle of the night, which would be distinctly unsuitable for a number of reasons. Arriving tomorrow evening would make four days in total and Laura did insist that we must be back within the week, sooner than later.”

“That’s a point,” Derek conceded.

“Stiles, where did your father wander off to today? I do imagine that he would prefer to be consulted on this matter.” There was an understatement.

“Actually, we left him at the house today. He had said something about wood for the fire.”

“Well, then why don’t we all make our way back to your house so we can discuss the situation and let the poor messenger get back before midnight?” Peter suggested, prompting Stiles and Derek to turn around with a gentle guiding hand on Derek’s elbow. Then he popped up on Stiles’ other side.

“That sounds like a wise plan,” Derek agreed. They strolled back down the street in the way they had come.

Stiles was stopped a few times by neighbors, idle curiosity getting the better of good manners. Usually, the parents would announce the plans for a couple to be mated at some sort of function, so that nearly everyone would hear it at the same time. Stiles’ mother had told him that in large cities, announcements were made on flyers and put up on announcement boards around the city. In this case, there were no flyers or parental speeches. Stiles told Mr Posey, Tara, and Heather’s mother. The entire village would know by the end of the noon meal. Hopefully his father would be understanding of the matter.

“Back already?” his father asked as the door opened. He turned to see Peter with them. “Oh, your grace!”

“I received a messenger from Laura this morning. I thought that perhaps, along with news of Stiles’ acceptance of Derek’s proposal, we could send her back a time to expect us? Of course, we could not leave before tomorrow morning, but perhaps you have some thoughts on the matter?” As always, Peter had the situation under control.

“Tomorrow?” his father looked shocked. “Of course you will have to return to the castle…” His hand stretched out. Stiles broke away from Derek and crossed the room to his father’s side. He put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, as though to steady himself. “Could you wait until the day after tomorrow?”

“I see no reason why not,” Peter agreed. “That would still be within the week by any standard.”

“I have no problem with staying as long as you would prefer,” Derek said easily. Peter clicked his tongue chidingly.

“We must not ignore your sister’s wishes, Derek. She is a queen.”

Derek flinched. “I was not suggesting treason, merely that I would also hold Elder Stilinski’s preference in the highest consideration.”

“Did I make that implication?” Peter murmured. There was a twitch on one side of his lips.

“I would not want you to make our queen wait,” Stiles’ father insisted. Whether or not Peter was willing to own to making the implication on purpose, the suggestion of possible treason by upsetting Laura the Queen had certainly kept the alphas from stalling their return to the castle.

After a few more rounds of such comments, it was decided that they would leave on the day after the next, as Stiles’ father had first suggested. Stiles thought that was reasonable enough. He had already had a few days to acclimate to the idea and he was going to be mated to a prince and live in a castle. With two whole days stretching out before his departure, he was certain that he would have time to bid farewell to everyone.

Peter noted that it was nearing noon and excused himself from the conversation to convey the information to the messenger that Laura had sent so that the poor man would hopefully be able to find his bed at a reasonable hour. Stiles made a face at the thought of starting a meal already, but Derek suggested that they try their walk again and perhaps they could have the noon meal at the inn afterwards. Stiles’ father agreed, so Stiles and Derek left hand in hand.

As Stiles had expected, the news had spread quickly. Their village was not very large after all. He and Derek did not get a chance to speak to each other with how every time one person had to get back to their work another would come to ask if they were pledged now. Derek handled the attention easily enough and everyone was merely curious. Only a short month prior, everyone had expected that Stiles would mate with Heather and then Derek had sort of shown up out of nowhere, and he was a prince.

Eventually Stiles and Derek escaped to the inn and had dinner upstairs in Peter and Derek’s private rooms with Stiles’ father and Peter. Arthur had been very understanding of their desire to be able to eat in peace. Peter informed them all that the messenger had left with the expectation of arriving not too long after suppertime.

After dinner, Stiles’ father was waylaid by everyone asking about Stiles’ relationship with Derek. Stiles took the opportunity to slip away from the crowd. He found himself standing alone in the middle of his house, staring blankly at all the things in the room. Other than his clothes, of which he only had a few pairs of trousers, two pairs of boots, and a handful of shirts, Stiles could not imagine what he would be taking with him. Obviously Stiles would have no need of any of the furniture or linens or pots, which his father would certainly have need of. That left only their collection of four books and the deck of cards. Since they had been his mother’s, Stiles felt that his father would likely want to keep those. Stiles sank into a chair, silently coming to terms with the fact that he would be taking almost nothing with him to the castle.

“Hey,” Derek’s voice broke the silence. Stiles startled at the sound. He saw that the sun was still high in the sky but he could not have accurately stated whether minutes or hours had passed. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Just soaking everything in.”

“I just sat in my rooms for almost the full two days we were back home in Triskele before Peter and I had to rejoin Laura at the castle here,” Derek confided. Stiles smiled up at him. “It’s hard. But the castle is nice.”

“I have no doubts that the castle will be lovely. I just won’t be taking much with me.”

“I did have a lot of things to bring with me,” Derek agreed. “That did help me feel settled in: seeing familiar things and having my scent in my rooms.”

Stiles was not certain he wanted to follow that thread of conversation any further. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, Derek, but did you want something?”

“I think maybe now isn’t a good time to bring it up. You’re trying to say farewell to the only home you’ve ever known.” Derek was not wrong but Stiles could finish this brooding later, in private.

“Brooding doesn’t help anything. What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Derek only hesitated briefly before answering. “Your father had most of my attention, but I heard Peter say something about True Mates to you yesterday. He told me to ask you what you were talking about.” Stiles did Derek the courtesy of also only hesitating the moment it took him to take a breath. This was important to him.

“Peter asked me if I thought we are True Mates. I told him that I don’t believe that True Mates exist. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who believes in them. They’re a fairytale.”

Derek nodded slowly, letting the answer sink in. “And if they weren’t a fairytale?”

“Heather’s really my only friend. I’m good at navigating conversations: I can pick up on innuendos and implications and understand sudden topic changes. But I’m not great at people. But you like me anyway and I like you despite the fact we’ve barely spent a handful of days together. Apparently it took me years to warm up to Heather, although we’ve known each other so long I don’t really remember that part anymore.” Although it was not a direct answer, it was the only answer that Stiles could give him. Derek accepted it for what it was.

“I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“I wasn’t asking you to change your mind. But this is important to you.” So I couldn’t lie.

Derek seemed to hear what Stiles didn’t manage to voice. “I wouldn’t ask you to.” They stared at each other for a moment. There was little else to be said on the matter, nothing worth trying to articulate. “I suppose I better get back to the inn. Peter suggested we give you and your father some privacy this evening and I suppose we oughtn’t be unsupervised for very long anyway.”

“I shouldn’t ruin my father’s honor with gossip,” Stiles agreed absently. Derek pressed a kiss to his cheek and left. Stiles sank back down into his chair. He felt emotionally wrung out. The thought of going to say farewell to Heather had crossed his mind earlier but he was in no state to manage it now. Heather would have to wait until tomorrow if she did not come to him.

At some point, Stiles’ father finally returned. They put some coldstuffs together for supper and made an early night.

The following morning, Stiles felt much refreshed. He rushed over to see Heather first thing in the morning. She was glad to see him and teased him about telling her mother before her that he was going to be mated to a prince. Stiles told her all the details of Derek’s courtship of him and how Stiles had made several attempts to test the alpha’s temper and patience in compensation. Heather was pleased with the trade. After all, Stiles’ mating with a prince would be gossiped about for quite a while and now she would be one of two people who knew everything. As it was nearing time for the noon meal, Stiles had to leave. He still had not packed his clothes, after all. Heather promised to write multiple times a week. Stiles promised to send messengers to regularly collect her letters.

While Stiles had been with Heather, Derek or Peter had come by and upon finding that Stiles had gone out, promised to come by in the afternoon. So dinner was a quick meal of porridge before they returned. 

Once Derek and Peter had left that evening, Stiles and his father packed up his clothes for him to leave in the morning. Stiles’ father packed their four books into the chest as well, hushing Stiles’ protests. He did the same with the deck of cards, insisting that Stiles ought to have his own. Lastly, his father pulled the chest of his mother’s old clothing out from under the bed. In addition to her dresses, there was a quilt, carefully packed, that his mother had made while she was expecting him. It still smelled like her. For the first time since Stiles had realized that he would be leaving to move to the castle, he broke down in tears.

With his books and his own deck of cards and the promise of his mother’s scent lulling him to sleep in his new home, the next morning dawned bright and optimistic for Stiles. There were no more tears. He was excited to be mated to Derek and moving to the castle would certainly be entertaining and educative, no matter how long it took for a castle to feel like home. By midmorning, Stiles and Derek and Peter were loaded into the carriage along with their affects. As Peter had predicted, Stiles was asleep within moments of being squeezed together with Derek on the bench and did not wake until they stopped for a meal and Peter shook his shoulder. He did the same thing for the second leg of the journey and Peter had to shake him awake as they were arriving at the castle.


	11. The End

Upon their first arrival, Stiles was whisked away to his chambers by a servant after only a brief farewell with Peter and Derek. While Stiles was eating a meal of stew and bread on a tray, his trunk was delivered. It quickly became clear that Stiles was expected to go to sleep once he had finished eating and looked around his new chambers. Despite the fact that he had been napping all day, Stiles thought that might be a very good plan indeed. He was sore and achy without Derek’s scent surrounding him, perfectly happy to eat the stew, see that he had two connected rooms – one with the bed and an armoire and a small table with one chair and writing parchment on it and the other with a normal size table with several chairs and some other seating arranged in front of the large fireplace in the middle – and pull out his mother’s quilt and go to sleep.

The next morning, the same servant, who had introduced herself as Harley, woke Stiles up. His morning porridge was sitting on a tray and a clean shirt and pair of trousers had been set out on a nearby chair.

“Good morning,” she smiled brightly. “After you eat your porridge, you’re supposed to get dressed so the Prince and the Queen can present you to the court.”

“Good morning,” Stiles echoed with some bemusement. He had not realized that he would have to be presented to the court so quickly. Stiles had a brief memory of Princess Cora having said that there would be less gossip if the court had factual information. Perhaps that was the reason for the rush. Stiles did not ask Harley, who busied herself with puttering around and tidying. He simply ate his porridge and got dressed, putting on his best shirt and trousers and the belt Heather had given him and his newer pair of boots that had not yet worn enough to have holes or entirely lose their shine. After Stiles had dressed, he was at loose ends by knowing neither when nor where he was supposed to be presented to the court for an interminable moment before a knock sounded on the door. Harley let Peter in. Stiles felt a wave of relief at the familiar face.

Peter smiled reassuringly, “If you’re ready, I will escort you to the throne room. You’ll be acclimated to the layout soon enough but I think it might be best to leave the exploring until later?” Stiles nodded.

“Thank you.” Stiles was very sincerely grateful for Peter’s forethought in coming to escort him. Derek likely had not realized, but Stiles had been taken straight to his chambers the night before and had no idea where anything was in the entire castle. They walked out into the hallway together and Stiles heard Harley close the door behind them before Peter spoke again. This time he was explaining to Stiles what he could expect from this presentation.

“We’ll go into the throne room through Laura’s entrance. The nobles will be allowed in once Laura indicates through another door. Laura will announce you. You should just nod once and smile. Derek might say something about your plans to be mated. You should not have to say anything and considering the size of the crowd, I doubt you’ll have a problem with being able to smile and nod and then let Derek lead you back out the door we went in.”

“How many people will be there, then? Forty?” That seemed like a very large number of people to Stiles.

“Quite a bit more than that,” Peter countered. “There should be about two thousand, which is honestly a fairly small court for the castle being the size it is. The Argents had up to ten thousand people here during important presentations like this.” Stiles’ mouth fell open. “Of course, many of our courtiers chose to remain with my sister and there were few who were already at court here that could be trusted given the fact we won the palace in war, not marriage.”

“Thousand?” Stiles murmured weakly. Peter nodded.

“Remember, all you have to do is nod after Laura announces your name and keep smiling. Derek will lead you back out the door. It should be quick and painless.”

“Painless,” Stiles scoffed with what little voice he could summon.

“You’ll be given someone trustworthy to teach you about court etiquette. You’re bright. You’ll pick it up quickly enough and you’ll acclimate to the crowds even more quickly. It’s strange and because it’s strange, it seems frightening. Once it’s not so strange, it will be much easier to manage.” Peter reached out and gently squeezed Stiles’ hand. Stiles took a deep breath.

“I just nod, smile, and follow Derek out the back door,” he murmured. Peter nodded. Stiles nodded back. He would manage this. He could nod and smile and follow Derek out the door.

They turned a corner and Stiles noticed that there was a door with a conspicuous guard to the right. Peter barely even had to hesitate in his stride as the guard opened the door for them without a word. Stiles was a little less composed but as Peter had promised, the large hall was still mostly empty. There were two thrones and four people standing in front of them: Derek, Cora, Laura, and a man who had to be Laura’s mate because Stiles had never seen him before. As Stiles followed Peter towards the thrones, he noticed that there were guards on the inside of the doors at the far end. They must be the ones who would allow the nobles in. As Stiles approached, Derek met him with a tight embrace and a bright grin.

“You saw him last night,” Cora grumbled. Laura snapped her name and Derek let go of Stiles, taking a step back. He was still smiling, but it was smaller.

Laura’s mate stepped forward. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Deucalion.” Stiles also offered his name as they shook hands.

Once everyone had settled, Laura and Deucalion standing directly in front of the two thrones with Peter to Laura’s left and Cora to Deucalion’s right and Derek and Stiles standing a bit in front, Laura nodded and the guards opened the main doors. Derek’s arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist as the unfathomably large crowd streamed into the hall. He had never seen so many people in his entire life, forget in the same place at the same time.

Everything went just as Peter had explained. Once the doors had closed behind the last person, Laura shifted just slightly and it went very quiet. Laura announced to the assembled crowd that Derek had chosen a mate, gave them Stiles name, whereupon Stiles nodded, and stated that Stiles had accepted Derek and would be staying in the castle during the planning process leading up to the mating ceremony. Stiles smiled during Laura’s announcements. There was a pause wherein a flurry of whispers crossed the hall. Derek and Laura both shifted position slightly and the whispers quieted again. Derek said that Stiles was his True Mate and that because of that, they would be mated as soon as could conveniently be arranged. Stiles heard Laura’s sharp inhale behind him. The whispers from the crowd probably kept them from hearing it. Derek led Stiles back out the door they had entered through behind Laura and Deucalion.

They all walked down the hall, in the opposite direction Stiles had arrived from. After a few more turns, a guard opened the door as Laura approached. They all walked into a room with a large table covered in papers and plenty of chairs. Stiles finally noticed that an intimidatingly beautiful redhead alpha had joined the group when they all sat down.

“May I?” Peter asked. Laura nodded. “Stiles, this is her grace, the Duchess of Tours. She will be your instructor in court etiquette.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Stiles said. The duchess nodded.

“The pleasure is mine, your highness,” she replied. Stiles startled at the address. He had realized that mating a prince would make him a prince but being addressed like royalty was still something of a shock. “Your majesty, I truly do think you were mistaken about his intentions being solely based on avarice.”

“It was a reasonable consideration,” Laura grumbled. The woman looked distinctly wrong-footed and Stiles felt nearly as awkward as she looked. Derek looked angry. Cora was politely blank. Peter seemed to have a bit of exasperation in his politely blank expression. Deucalion fixed his mate with a chiding look and broke the silence.

“There is absolutely no reason not to trust your brother’s judgment in this matter,” he stated firmly. Laura flushed. Stiles kept his mouth firmly shut.

“Yes, your grace, I do think he will learn quickly.” The duchess seemed to be addressing Peter, but her intent gaze was fixed on Stiles. Rather than feel flattered, Stiles felt more like a rabbit in a leg snare with a hungry fox peering out of the bushes at him. After a moment she smiled, pleased at something.

Eventually, they managed to discuss the generalities of what Stiles was expected to know while Stiles occasionally got to interject that he was already perfectly competent at some things. The list of what Stiles had to learn was still longer than the extent of his abilities that seemed to have any purpose in life in a castle. At the end of that conversation, Derek, Stiles, Cora, and the duchess all left the room. Cora and the duchess went one way; while Derek and Stiles went the other direction.

Derek took Stiles around the castle, showing him the different rooms. Everywhere they went, someone introduced themselves to him. Stiles stuck to the standard phrase that he had given to the duchess, since no one had made a face at him. Everyone appeared to think that he was behaving appropriately. The only nobles that Derek seemed excited to see were the ones that Stiles had met on the first Royal Visit to Beacon Hills: Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. Stiles quickly realized that they were Derek’s friends, not just people with titles who happened to live in the castle, because he and Derek ate both dinner and supper with them in between all of them showing him around the castle.

After that first day, Stiles’ days settled into a routine of breakfast, etiquette lessons with the duchess in his chambers, an hour or so to himself for exploring, dinner with Derek, a lesson on history or laws or advanced mathematics or geography or languages with the duchess in the library, another hour or so often spent with Derek outside enjoying the weather, supper with Derek, a few hours to himself and then he went to bed to start all over again. Stiles had quickly proven that he was capable of keeping his seat on horseback and so had not had to have any further lessons on that, nor in reading and writing. But the rigidly structured social mores took a lot of explanation and thought, with Stiles having little frame of reference.

As Peter had promised, Stiles learned how to get around the castle with a minimum of wrong turns within the first week. He also slowly began to acclimate to the crowds both in the castle and in the city surrounding it. He also began to memorize more and more of the appropriate etiquette for each social situation, getting better about using the proper spoon, form of address, and level of formality appropriate based on the other person’s relative position at court.

The week following that, Stiles received a shock. He had noticed that the Hales and the nobles from Triskele did seem to have better senses than the average person. He knew that their cultures had some obvious dissimilarities. He had not realized that apparently there were other species that appeared to be human. But Derek made plans to take to his room for the week and Peter made a point of assuring that Derek would stay in his room and the word heat was used in seriousness. Apparently Derek shared some relation to a barn cat. Luckily, Stiles had not laughed at anyone who had mentioned the guards that would be posted on his own door before he was informed that it certainly was an actual thing. Of all the people that could have done the explaining, it was equally shocking that Deucalion was the one to give him the news.

“They aren’t joking?” Stiles had said flatly.

“The Hales are a very insular family for being royalty. I doubt very much that any of them considered the possibility that you aren’t the same species any more than you had,” Deucalion explained.

“If they aren’t the same kind of human that I am…?” Stiles was not even certain what to ask.

“Werewolves. I also am one. Most of the nobles who came from Triskele are werewolves as well. I imagine you did notice the enhanced hearing and sense of smell?”

“I had noticed, but it seemed rude to ask about it.”

“It certainly could have been taken that way,” Deucalion agreed. “It’s also where their True Mate theory comes in. I’m not from Triskele and we don’t hold much more stock in it than you do. Supposedly, you can tell who the mate of your soul is by their scent? It seems a little too good to be true, you know? Besides, you can make a happy life with any number of people who don’t make you wonder if they’re the only one who could ever complete you. There’s no reason to chase a fantasy when faced with a perfectly lovely reality. Of course, Laura’s decided that not believing in True Mates makes her smarter than her siblings. But I love her anyway.”

“Is that why Derek was so insistent? Because he’s a werewolf?”

“Partially,” Deucalion nodded slowly. “We feel mating bonds, especially the unsettled ones, more strongly than humans do. Or so I am told. I’ve always been a werewolf.”

“Can you become one if you aren’t born as one?”

“Yes. There’s a bit of a ritual to it.” Deucalion changed the subject. “Come, I’m going to show you something. To avoid raising gossip, you will have to spend the week cloistered away, but I think this might raise your spirits.” Stiles obediently got up and followed Deucalion out the servants’ door. “No one will be using this route during the week.” That made sense. If they thought that Stiles had some relation to a barn cat, yowling to be mounted by anything with the right parts, then obviously they would have to give him a wide berth. Deucalion suddenly stopped walking. He pressed on a raised flower carving on the wall and a bit of the wall swung inward, like a door opening. There were floor to ceiling shelves, all of them overflowing with books.

“This is amazing!” Stiles grinned broadly.

“I thought you would appreciate it. You should be able to fetch as many books as you wish and spend as much time in here as you want this week. It would probably be best if the servants weren’t to discover you utilizing it immediately following this week, though.”

Stiles sobered. “I can understand that.” The duchess had already impressed upon him the importance maintaining reputation at court. If the gossip said that Stiles had been wandering about the castle while he was supposed to be in heat, it could be sufficient to stop the mating ceremony. Given his ever-growing attachment to Derek, that would be less than desirable. They quickly returned to his rooms, Stiles making careful note of the placement of the hidden library. Being cloistered by himself for a week would be difficult enough without frustrating himself by forgetting the location of his source of entertainment. 

Deucalion left Stiles to his thoughts in his chambers. After a brief moment, Stiles decided that he needed to get some more answers to all of the questions that kept coming to mind. He went to the castle’s library, remembering that there had been several shelves of what he had assumed to be outdated information about creatures that he had not thought to be real. Stiles carefully pulled down a few books at a time, not wanting to obviously empty the entire shelf at once, but methodically made his way through each one. A couple of the books were compendiums, and only briefly described werewolves, raising Stiles’ curiosity about the possibility of all the other creatures and types of magic they listed truly existing. Before Deucalion had told him, all Stiles had known about wolves or magic were the bedtime stories, having never considered that they could be real. With this revelation, Stiles was intent on discovering as much as he could as quickly as he could.

Although some of the books did seem to contradict each other, Stiles managed to find some things that seemed to be well enough documented to be true. Werewolves were mostly just like humans with enhanced reflexes, hearing, and sense of smell. At one point, they had been able to grow claws and fangs and some had even managed to turn into wolves. The idea of Derek growing claws and fangs touched some primal part of Stiles, causing a rush of heat in his belly. What Deucalion had said about werewolves feeling the mating bond more strongly than humans was also documented in several books. Stiles knew that humans could form bonds, but the bonds described for werewolves were much stronger and formed faster. They could sense threats within days of first meeting a potential bond mate. Stiles felt a little guilty about being so dismissive of Derek’s plaintive farewell and midnight arrival, because obviously the weeks of separation had been a great distress for him. The ritual that Deucalion had refused to explain apparently involved a bite from an alpha. The books were almost as vague as Deucalion had been and insisted that most werewolves were born to it. It seemed to be implied that there was some sort of danger but Stiles thought that it was not enough of a reason to completely dismiss asking Derek about it later. Stiles had been most interested in these heats, but there was a bare minimum of information about it. It appeared that Stiles had been incorrect about the comparison to yowling barn cats, because the heat was supposed to be a time to cement family bonds, whether between a mated pair or between parents and children. Other than that, the only information that seemed reasonable was that werewolves who could have children had their heats directly in the middle of their bleedings and that bond mates would often have their heats the same week. The gossip that would have resulted if Deucalion had not warned Stiles would certainly have been very damaging.

After several hours’ worth of reading and skimming, Stiles still had questions but he felt less bewildered by the entire prospect. He was interrupted by Derek coming to find him, since he had forgotten to stop reading for dinner, and Stiles hurriedly put the rest of the books away. He was hungry, now that he was paying attention. Derek shook his head and led Stiles to where Erica and Isaac were waiting impatiently for their arrival.

That evening, both Derek and Stiles began their week of being sequestered. Stiles spent much of the week bored out of his skull, even with the availability of the hidden library that Deucalion had showed him. Although Stiles and Derek had been kept separated, Peter was the one bringing Stiles’ meals in. Stiles was glad for Derek’s sake that he was clearly aware enough to get hungry, but with nothing to do but read or think about how Derek was in some state of difficulty that he had no frame of reference for, Stiles was fixated on his concern for Derek. Because Peter clearly noticed that Stiles was obviously not exhibiting any symptoms of being in heat, they had to have an awkward discussion about the fact that Stiles was human and therefore did not turn into a yowling barn cat once a month. Peter did not appreciate the comparison. Peter did still agree to sneak Stiles into Derek’s chambers to check on him midway through the week.

Derek was shocked by Peter sneaking Stiles in, of course. “Peter! Stiles! Heat! This!”

“Actually, I’m not in heat. I don’t have them. But I was concerned about you. You have to be sequestered for a whole week every month?”

“Normal,” Derek shrugged. He tried to wrap himself around Stiles like a blanket. “Smell like me.”

“You really are alright?” Stiles pressed the matter. He bled once a month and it was normal but that did not mean he was alright that week.

“Better now,” Derek muttered.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” Stiles teased. Derek made a noise of displeasure. “I’m sorry. That really was sweet of you to say.”

“Don’t need apology,” Derek mumbled.

After a few more such exchanges, Peter insisted that he had to take Stiles back to his own room. Stiles was very reassured by the fact that Derek seemed fairly aware and coherent, despite his increased inclination to embrace Stiles. They had managed a conversation even if it had been as though Derek was half-awake or had drunk an entire wineskin in one sitting by himself. Derek had also fully understood and cooperated when Stiles told him to let go once Peter got antsy about returning him to his own chambers.

The rest of the week, Stiles managed to focus more on his reading, including some information on all of the court protocol that the duchess had been trying to instill in him. He also wrote lengthy letters to Heather and his father about the castle and everyone he had met to make up for the fact he had been so busy that it was going on a fortnight and he had not even written a line.

After that heat week, it became clear that the gossip around the court was all in Stiles’ favor. Everyone thought that the story of the prince finding a mate in a tiny village was entirely too romantic to find fault with the mate from the tiny village. At least, that was Derek’s take on the matter. Peter and Deucalion and the duchess all insisted that Stiles’ rough grasp of court protocol in such a short time had also helped. Instead of having absolutely no idea what was going on, Stiles only ever made small mistakes that could be found charming rather than insulting. He made a point of always trying to err on the side of giving someone too much attention rather than risk ignoring someone who would be offended, regardless of how interesting they were, which Stiles thought had probably kept tongues from chiding his faults.

The date for the mating ceremony was also set in the week following Derek’s heat. They would be mated in the middle of the week prior to the next one. Apparently it was a common werewolf practice to be mated just before the heat so that the newly minted bond could be firmly cemented by a week’s worth of close contact. Stiles thought it made plenty enough sense. He had to send another letter back home to inform his father of the announcement personally, even though he had not received replies to either of the first letters yet.

The weeks passed fairly rapidly. Stiles was still learning for several hours in both the morning and afternoon, but he was also catching on quickly to the little cues and nuances of behavior in the castle. The duchess even gave him leave to call her by her given name, Lydia, and admitted that she was a native of Francia, like he was, though she shied from speaking about the Argents. Stiles instinctively felt that this was an indication of her new-found respect for him and did not press about her time in the castle prior to the Hales winning the war after her initial reticence.

Soon enough, all of the arrangements for the mating ceremony were complete. Stiles’ father had arrived with Heather to witness it. Stiles had a wonderful time showing Heather around the castle. His father had a wonderful time chatting with one of the healers that he ran into in the market, who Derek said was the mother of one of the native knights they had taken in. Stiles and Heather had left him to it after the first quarter hour and they did not see him again until breakfast the next morning. His father insisted that he had returned after supper but Stiles had waited up for several hours and wondered exactly how long after supper it had been.

The actual mating ceremony was fairly traditional, despite being more from Derek’s culture than Stiles’. There was an altar and a priest and they said their vows and were pronounced a mated couple. There was a sumptuous feast where Stiles and Derek sat at the high table. Lydia, Heather, and Stiles’ father were supposed to be sitting at the table beside them but Stiles’ father had disappeared after the first course, leaving Lydia and Heather to make awkward small talk. When Stiles had finally recognized his father’s head sitting next to the same Healer from the day before, in the middle of the knights’ tables, he had accidentally interrupted one of Derek’s stories with his laughter.

Not much changed immediately following the mating ceremony. A few more people called Stiles by the title “highness” than had before and Stiles spent the night in Derek’s arms every night, but little else changed. Stiles still had his lessons with Lydia for several years. Although they grew to respect and like one another as close friends, Lydia never opened up about her past, although Stiles did suspect that she had been more closely involved with the Argent royal family than might be known by his sister-in-law. Derek continued to train with the knights and was eventually passed over for the inheritance of Triskele in favor of Cora. Stiles was not dismayed about not having to be in charge of an entire kingdom and move so far from his father. Although Stiles and Heather communicated mostly through letters, only exchanging visits on special occasions every few years, Stiles’ father used every excuse to visit the castle. He spent almost as much time with the Healer Melissa as he did his own son each time, which was how Stiles befriended Scott. Stiles’ father and Melissa, whose first mate had apparently died in one of the border skirmishes over a decade prior, were eventually mated themselves. They did not have any more children but Stiles and Derek provided them with five grandchildren over the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia is the Duchess of Tours because of St Martin of Tours. Since Francia is supposed to be slightly French, I figured Tours sounded more likely than the Duchess of Martin.
> 
> So. Claudia. I was going to have Peter recognize the playing cards that Stiles had, because they were a set designed for Claudia's family with their crest and such worked into the design on the back of the cards. But. Between having the werewolf reveal and the heat week thing and then I had a good segue into a wrap-up paragraph, it didn't actually make it in there. So Claudia was one of the younger children of a duke or something in the kingdom that Deucalion's from. There was some civil unrest and she fled from the danger and ended up in Beacon Hills in Francia. The men that Stiles mentions in chapter three that murdered her were Argent knights who were checking that the Nemeton tree was still dormant. They recognized Claudia as a member of her family and killed her because they thought it was the best decision in the moment, because she would have known what they were doing and could have had the political clout had she turned up at court to raise a fuss. Stiles, being a child, was not the same threat and was spared. Stiles luckily never figures out exactly why his mother died and is spared that guilt of surviving.


End file.
